Continuum
by Quippy
Summary: Kiera Cameron's plight, and the adjustment it poses, challenge her in ways she never imagined possible. Her psyche and skills are tested as never before. Daily she struggles to make the grade and combat Liber8. But she does have help... Continues with Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

Kiera Cameron gazed at the bottle of hard liquor she'd brought back to her hotel room. She wasn't emotive in the best of times. By no stretch of the imagination would she consider the times she found herself in now, good. It was grueling, keeping her true identity and origination a secret from strangers from an earlier time. To be among them, but be apart from them was insidious. Meaning them harm was foreign to her. She was a Protector, one who had to battle Liber8 alone in 2012.

The terrorist group's intent was manipulation so they would win the war not set to take place 65 years from now. The imposed challenge, that of stopping the cell in this primitive environment, surpassed insurmountable. Yet, here she was trying to do just that. Her only ally was an adolescent hacker, Alec Sadler, a genius in his own right. Still…the mysterious hacker had his limitations and he was a wellspring of questions she couldn't answer. There was no way he could materialize a cadre of Protectors to beef up her number of one.

Oh, how she wished that fateful day when the eruption had occurred had never happened. Looking back though was moot. The entire sequence of untimely events had happened, changing the future forever, if she failed to thwart the dystopian disruptors.

Stopping them was more than an objective. It was her mantra, incessant and boisterous. She had no choice but to obey its mandate. If stopping them eluded her, then her baby would suffer. Sam's world would be one of woe.

Kiera swallowed hard.

The burning question was how could she accomplish such a feat singlehandedly? She desperately wanted to believe that stopping them wasn't an impossibility. Somehow, a favorable resolution to this dilemma was feasible, albeit difficult to attain.

She studied herself in the mirror, off to the left of the bed. Intense eyes stared back at her, unwilling to concede that they lacked the luster they once had when she was with her family…her husband, Greg, and their impressionable young son, Sam. She missed them more than she could express. Talking at herself in the mirror pushed her a bit closer to the edge. Her skin prickled, keenly aware that there was no one to pour her heart out to. Keeping everything inside was taking its toll. It wasn't the same, telling her troubles to her own reflection.

She could not burden Alec with adult concerns.

She had never been much of a drinker, but she was learning that having a few shots had nothing to do with lacking moral character. The age from which she had come demanded nothing less than prescribed behavior as dictacted by those in power. Kiera left off soul searching and reached for one of the glasses that were rimmed around the ice bucket. With the bottle open, she poured, filling the glass halfway. She knocked some of the strong drink back. Its burning bite slid down her throat as her eyes watered.

"Ah…"

A playful smile quirked her lips and she had to laugh. The sound was low and carried mockery. She tilted her head back and finished the contents of the glass. Wasting no time, she poured herself another. The intoxicant licked at her bones, thawing their marrow.

Kiera felt her joints loosen, along with her tongue. Her sigh coursed through her. "This will _never_ be home. Not as long as I'm lost without the ones closest to my heart." Mental images of Greg and Sam had a furious spree overshadowing other, more immediate thoughts.

She went for the bottle again, refilling her glass. Uncomfortable feelings made relaxation just beyond her reach. After another drink, her mind quieted. Her eyes flicked to the door when there was knocking upon it. She didn't want to see anyone, yet she wasn't sold on being alone.

She knew next to no one in this place, save for…

The pounding against the door continued.

At its hard finished surface, she spoke through the barrier. "Who?" Her drinking glass turned in her hand.

Swiftly, the reply came, "It's Carlos. Open up."

Puzzled, she couldn't recall when she had given him the location where she was staying. "Uh…yeah. Sure."

Fonnegra, standing on the other side of the door waited expectantly. Ever since he had spotted her shifting through the rubble, caused by an explosion that was far from normal, she had put the 'i' and 'm' in inexplicably mysterious for him. She was the kind of smart that didn't get taught in any academy. The brilliance was in her blood.

"Can I come in?"

She was holding her ground and he saw in her eyes that she was thinking it over. Did she want to commit herself to spending time with him, more than she already had?

He was a fountainhead of questions of the personal kind when he was on a roll. Would there ever be an end to those of that nature?

Holding the door open wider to move aside, Kiera admitted him.

"Thanks."

"Do you need me to answer more questions?" As if the battery he had already put her through earlier in the day hadn't satisfied him. Maybe the oblique answers she'd given him had merely whetted his appetite. She felt him at her back, following her into the unremarkable room she was making do with as a temporary place to lay her head.

Carlos held his tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was to interfere with this cryptic woman and the crypto manner in which she operated. The liquor he smelled on her made him raise an eyebrow. "I see you aren't the type who minds drinking alone."

"I'm not the type who drinks, period. But…" She shrugged as she went to offer some hospitality off the cuff. "Want some?"

"What have you got?"

"Bourbon."

Carlos noticed that the bottle was a third gone. "Yeah, sure. Why not." He nudged his own glass closer to where she was pouring and watched her fill it. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do." She thought about Greg, how that was his line. She controlled herself from falling down the pit of _what if she never saw him or Sam again_. "What brings you here, Detective Fonnegra?"

"Haven't you noticed them by now? My two feet with their legs attached."

His small joke fell flat. Kiera barely smiled.

"No, seriously," he bantered, "just thought I'd come by. See how you're settling in."

Sipping more of what she had poured for herself, she replied, "Not so much. I'm still getting my bearings. Learning as I go." If he only knew how feebly it was going. This was still Earth, the inhabitants, human, but the similarities abruptly ended there. She might as well have fallen from the sky, onto a strange new world. 2012 had minimal in common with 2077.

Nursing his drink, Carlos bided his time. He could sense her reluctance to let her guard down. It had been up since first they met. If anything, she reinforced it each time he tried getting her to open up. He decided he would ask. She would, most likely, turn him down, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Have you eaten?"

Downing what had been her third drink, she thought his question over.

"It's not a trick question, you know."

She threw off vibes hinting at the war she waged with herself. She had purchased a bag of chips, a pretzel from a street vendor and an apple in a deli. They were still untouched. When she had returned to the room, she'd just sat for a spell, sorting through the complexities of the day.

"I know," Kiera defended.

"Well?"

"No."

"Dinner…have it with me?"

She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand; a tentative half smile lazed on her lips. There would be more questions, she took into account. Her muttering was subdued.

"C'mon, you've got to eat." He rocked back on his heels. "I could use the company. How 'bout you?"

She set her glass down, tucked her hair behind her ears. Nodding, she watched him finish off his drink. She studied him as she would a plan of action. When he took the glass away from his lips, his smile mowed down the drabness of the room.

"Good," Carlos said. "I know a nice place."

She knew several too, but it would be years before they would actually come into existence.


	2. Chapter 2

Above all else, Kiera loved her family. Her separation from them by decades was heart-wringing. She had discovered Liber8's intention of getting back, had tried to tag along, an uneasy standoff had been her bargaining chip. Sadly, their science had been off—way off. The resultant catastrophic explosion at the lab was proof of that. The time jump had failed again. Still stuck here in this time warp, along with them, she despaired. Her absence left her precious son, Sam disoriented. He felt as if his mother had abandoned him. It wounded her, his feeling that way, and it wasn't supposition.

Kiera knew exactly how both of her loved ones felt. She had Alec, who regularly notified her about the goings-on of her family. They were managing, but it was tough. Greg was a responsible, conscientious father, a loving, understanding husband. He had always wanted kids. He wasn't comfortable with being patient, though, but he was trying. Yet, he couldn't camouflage the pique in his voice when Sam asked when Mommy was coming home.'

Or, Sam would stubbornly insist that he needed to tell his Mommy about the things he could always share with her. Things he instinctively knew his father had no time for.

She had seen them talking, courtesy of Alex.

In no way was Sam being difficult, just firm for what he wanted. Why couldn't he bring his spongy _magnifier_ to school? His teacher had made it clear that 'Show, Tell, and Analyze' was the chance to share imaginative new ideas with the class. He'd come up with his versatile gizmo that expanded then contracted solid objects using kinetic energy, all by himself.

Greg wasn't seeing it that way. He had told his son _no_, he didn't want Sam bringing the intriguing invention to school. It was to be left at home, thus preventing the asking of nosy questions only his mother had the answers for.

Despite her best efforts, Kiera couldn't help feeling depressed. She was fighting as hard as she could, trying to get the gist of how to fit in as well as be Liber8's deterrent . She had been arrested, booked; they were processing her now. She sat, while they deliberated, waiting for them to determine whether she needed permanent locking up and dissecting. They were digging into her past, but it was one that didn't exist. Inevitably, they would come up with nothing, since there was nothing for them to find. She didn't belong here.

She was from the future, as preposterous as that may have seemed. Here, missing so much and living up to Greg's prophetic words about not coming home for Sam, one day.

A steady stream of tears spilled from her eyes as she waited for them to decide her fate.

And then, Alec was whispering in her mind. She had stopped thinking of it as an intrusion, depending on him for so much now. She didn't know what would happen to her. Kiera hugged herself, waiting, waiting, waiting. Whatever these people, who were checking out her background, decided to do, she would have Alec in her mind, helping her get through it.

Although she was alone, having him in her head made the forced exile seem less lonely.

_…Don't worry…I've fixed it_, he assured her, not too concerned if she failed to believe him right away. He had her back, which, all things considered, was the all-important thing. He rejoiced that she had not died in the blowup.

_What do you mean you 'fixed it?'_ she prodded.

_...You'll know soon enough…you'll see_…

Kiera's eyes meandered over to Carlos; she watched him pretending to busy himself with the clutter upon his desk. She wondered how much longer she would be handcuffed.

Then, the commanding voice of Inspector Dillon disrupted her disquieting thoughts. He announced, to her amazement, that 'Linda' had Section 6 clearance and was to be released at once. He arranged for a task force to pursue the Liber8 terrorists and she must be on the team. He charged Carlos with getting her settled in, oblivious to the detective's misgivings.

Reviving her faith in surviving here, Kiera cerebally murmured to Alec, _...Thank you._

And he intoned in kind, _...Don't mention it. You know...I do what I can_...

"Can I drop you off somewhere?" Carlos offered, seeing the 'fish out of water' expression etched on 'Linda's' face.

She declined his offer and as he walked off to leave, Kiera spotted the missing time jump device that had been retrieved as evidence in a see-through pouch. Processing that, she headed for her hotel room, exhausted and disappointed over the day's disgruntling events. As much as she hated to acknowledge it, the sad fact remained that she might never see her family and the future, where she was from, ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

Kiera sighed, shooting Alec Sadler a look that shouted at him so she didn't have to verbally. Smart boy that he was, the tech genius selected what he needed to appease her. How would it look for an underage boy, an impressionable teenager, to be found with her in her room? Alec ducked under her bed. All clear now, she could admit one indefatigable detective. The one who never took no for an answer even after she had told him that she would see him tomorrow at the office.

With the door ajar, Kiera allowed Carlos to enter.

"You see, I don't show up empty handed."

Hugging the industrial grade cord carpet, Alec chuckled deep in his throat. It was no mystery to him why she, the wife and mother from the future, was letting her partner in solving present and future crime in. Kiera's developing crush she had on the hunk was alive and well, obvious and motivating. She might deny it all she wanted, but Alec wasn't fooled, no ma'am.

Alec's mouth watered, his budding appetite being primed by the overpowering aroma of Chinese takeout.

"I hope you're hungry and like beef and broccoli. I got a large pork fried rice so we can share." Carlos had gone on to set the customary takeout containers decorated with bright red pagodas on the only table in her bedsit. "Love what you've done with the place."

Like what? Made her bed while remembering to put the bathroom towels on the racks where they belonged? Dutifully hanging up her clothes? She had a young son, right?

"Thanks," she replied, sounding as factious as he sounded. She picked up what he designated was her culinary fare to smell its contents through the SBS white paperboard.

"So, did I make an edible selection that's to your liking?"

Kiera took another whiff of what smelled delicious. "I could eat."

His huge sloppy grin washed over his handsome face. "Nice." He finished emptying the bags he had brought. Proffering chopsticks aimed at her, he said, "I figured I owed you a makeup dinner since our first attempted one got interrupted by LiberEight activity."

Nodding, Kiera accepted the versatile eating utensils, recalling how once a pair of these had saved her life. It was a long story, in the faraway future. A grisly tale that she was sure could be saved for another time.

Alec loved beef and broccoli; he scarfed pork fried rice. He hoped these chatty two didn't devour all of the grub so he would get some. _They had better save some soy sauce too_, he mentally grumbled_. Hey, he never said anything about egg rolls. Hope he brought some of those too_…

Thinking about what Alec had said she was doing, Kiera frowned. Before digging into her food, she eyed Carlos thoughtfully. His mouth was already stuffed with Kung Pao chicken as he blissfully chomped away. The man looked so high on cloud nine as he ate. "Good?" she queried.

Mindful of not talking with his mouth full, Carlos chewed a bit more before replying. Of all the women in his life, even counting his ex, Kiera was the bluntest. "The best." He swiped at his sauce-dripping mouth with the dinky, a touch transparent, napkin provided. "Why haven't you dug in yet?" As if a light bulb sparked to life above his head, he remarked, "There's plenty of duck sauce."

Alec smiled, hoping that went for soy sauce too.

Giving Carlos a long thoughtful look, hoping to draw him in, she asked, "I'd like to ask you something."

"Shoot," he receptively invited.

"Do I act like I'm playing God?"

"Seriously?"

What made her think that? Her ubiquitary manner? He was getting used to it.

"I am being serious."

Alec' eyes danced in their sockets as he waited to hear what the cop of this century had to say. His opinion did matter to her, he thought. His grin lounged on his face.

Her stark look, one he was becoming quite familiar with was set in her face like stone. "No," he tersely said, continuing to regard her with some contemplative byplay of his own. This woman, never hard on the eyes, was a refreshing contradiction, daily. Unlike Betty, who never failed with overstatement laced with undertones, Kiera never wasted words, nor emotion. "You're epic, erring on the side of relentless, but I don't get God complex from you." He tucked into more Kung Pao.

The shadow of a smile his observation brought to her lips made his come readily.

"Now stop with the internal probing and eat," he ordered. Yeah, she was one exceptional woman, a sight for his sore eyes many a day, but as was the case with a sizeable number of her sex, she overanalyzed on the side of: 'good grief, woman, give it a rest.' Lazily, his fingers tapped against the egg roll he prepared to stick into his mouth.

"Is that an order?"

With whimsy in his eyes, the corners of which were crinkling as his smile widened, he answered, "If it makes you happy, then file it under a suggestion. On the clock you outrank me."

"But, we're off the clock," Kiera nimbly pointed out. Having followed through with putting some food into her mouth, she readily had to admit, even tacitly, that this fare was very good. Food in 2012 had it all over what was palmed off as food in her time. Cooking had become a lost art in 2077. She realized what a shame that was.

"I have no problem with that."

"Neither do I."

If mush got too cloying in here, Alec would rib Kiera about it endlessly and bolt out of the room with her damaged suit. He would bring it back on the one condition that she was in no position to flirt.

"Good," Carlos doled out and bit the egg roll in two.

Their eyes were locked and it had just dawned on Kiera that Carlos' eyes were a velvety, smoldering shade of dark brown. What made them so hard to avoid getting lost in them? Analyzing that, she captured another sauce-laden broccoli sprig to pop it in her mouth and smiled.

The sound of his voice was comforting too.

"What are you thinking?" Carlos asked, stringent about not making it sound like an impromptu interrogation.

She didn't want to make it about work. Even CPS protectors deserved downtime. "This is really good food."

"Glad you like it. Do you cook?" He wiped his mouth since sauce had slid across his lips.

2077 food was a far cry from anything this gratifying. It lacked character and purposely ignored the taste buds, rendering them virtually useless. It was bland and something just to get down rather than savor.

"Yes, but not like this."

"I cook. I'm not much of one, but I like to dabble in the kitchen. Maybe sometime...you could visit my place and we could see what we can cook up."

Alec rolled his eyes, couldn't help thinking how serious this guy was with a stale line like that.

Sounding patient, Kiera replied, "We'll see..."

Carlos popped the rest of his egg roll into his mouth with his eyes dancing. "I could use an assistant. Making paella takes a lot of work."

"Paella?"

"Yeah. The one I like making is the seafood variety." Smiling warmly, he stated, "Done right, it's delish. Guaranteed."

"I'd like to try it...sometime."

"You'll help?"

Kiera thought it over and decided, "Sure. Why not..."

It was the most positive thing the smart detective had heard all day.


	4. Chapter 4

In the wee hours of this morning, the "Section Six" operative, Kiera, struggled to fall back to sleep. She brooded, thinking deeply about the task force she was assigned to, their efforts to counteract Liber8's subversive orchestrations. This covert operation's efforts to hinder the group's subversive activities were having minimal success at best. What little progress made seemed dwarfed in the grand scheme of things.

The streets sounds beyond her shut window were nil. Even the glaring light from the nearby neon signs weren't as bothersome as they sometimes were. Her present bout with insomnia has nothing to do with external causes.

Plainly, her cause for being unable to sleep lay in todays' disturbing, yet astonishing events. Seeing her 17-year-old grandmother as a feisty, headstrong, exotically pierced and beautiful teen was a rare experience. The impression left was indelible. To glimpse one's living, breathing roots was an incident she would never forget as long as she lived.

The death of Kellog's grandmother, Mattie, was a debacle, which she also would not soon forget. She felt largely responsible for the loss. Kagame had discovered Kellog's involvement with her, and had demanded that in exchange for Lily, Mattie could go free. A twinge of remorse colored her feelings while Kiera thought about how Kellog had been supporting her financially. Now the youthful, trusting innocent was dead, shot down by one of Liber8's own, Travis. Kiera had tried taking him out, but repeatedly, she had missed. He still lived to dog her along with the rest of the rabid, militant cell.

But, since Kellog had not disappeared, blotted out from existence when his grandmother died, then there was a good chance no more attempts on Kiera's relatives would be made.

She reviewed the success and failure of the plan. She had hatched it and Kellog had cooperated, lending his talents. One life had been saved, only to have had another life taken. Where was the justice in all this? Perhaps there was none, anywhere, neither in this timeline, nor any others. What was happening within the timeline she had left behind, the one in which her family inhabited?

Her forsaken Sam and Greg seemed so distant to her sometimes, times such as these, when her only company was the steady, yet odd beating of her own heart. Her emotions erupted and the entire room felt as if it were tilting, falling down stairs. She exhaled vehemently with her eyes pinned to the shadowy ceiling. Tears were forming in her eyes; she didn't blink.

Kiera sat up in the comfortable, rather spacious bed. She clutched her head, bringing it down between her bent legs. Her head ached, her brain seeming more like a reservoir. There was too much in it, the contents flowing too swiftly through. Oh, how she wished…

It would be unburdening, revealing the truth to Carlos. He deserved a partner he could wholly trust, not one who was forced to keep vital things from him while dangling half-truths. It was inevitable that mostly during the day they locked horns. His were as sizeable as hers.

"If I told him what I really am, where I'm from," Kiera murmured in the room whose darkness was mottled by faint light, "I would never be heard of, or from, again. I would be locked away for unending, concentrated psychoanalysis."

No one would be blamed for it either. A woman claiming to come from a time far in the future, insisting that she was fighting those who would change the future by sowing seeds of anarchy now would have to be 'warped' in the worst way. Kiera's lips assumed a wry smile. "Even he would stare at me sideways, despite his willingness to give me the benefit of the doubt."

Her chuckle resonated deep in her throat. Yeah, Carlos was becoming a better ally, day-by-day, but her claim would strain even his limits of staking his reputation on her believability—and being in her right mind.

She eased off her legs and with assessing, eyes surveyed her quaint, old, old-fashioned surroundings. She wrapped her arms around her bent legs to rest her chin upon her knees. She rocked back and forth, idly wriggling her toes. This room, oddly enough, was feeling more like home.

"Home sweet home," Kiera mumbled, a twinge of settledness settling over herself. Again, her mind flitted to how young, poignantly fresh-faced her grandmother-to-be looked, a sweetie deep down. "But _not_ vulnerable. No, ma'am. Grammy has fight and fire-eater written all over her."

"Where you get it from."

"Alec…"

"Thought you were asleep…" Apparently Alec wasn't.

Crinkling her nose, Kiera told him, "I appreciate you, and all you do for me, but when I want to be alone—"

"Like Greta?"

"Who?"

Sadler's snicker was background noise. "You never heard of Greta Garbo?"

"Oh…_that_ Greta," Kiera filled in, a note of humor in her voice. "Famous people of long, long ago still exist in the future."

"Just checking."

"Could you afford me my privacy?" she said, stringent about not sounding snooty.

Striking an apologetic chord, Alec replied, "Of course, sure. Sorry. Let me know when you need me."

Kiera silently praised the kid for his understanding and readiness to do as he was told. "Thanks. I'm going to give falling asleep another try. I'll be in touch."

"Me too. Night."

"Night, Alec."

No sooner did she have her mind all to herself again when her cell phone buzzed as it vibrated. "Hey."

"Kiera," Carlos said urgently, "report to headquarters as soon as you can. It's urgent."

"How urgent?"

"Mobilization of the entire Vancouver police force. Is that urgent enough for ya?" Sighing, he followed up, "Not over the phone."

"Right," Kiera acknowledged, ignoring the impatience he'd stitched into his voice. "I'm there."

He ended the call and Kiera stared at the rudimentary communication device. She stuck the Bluetooth in her ear.

"What is it, Alec?" She was confident he had not quit listening in entirely, and had the situation sized up.

"I know a smidgen less than you at the moment."

"Well—get on it," Kiera admonished, dressing with tornadic velocity and then barreled out the door.

"All over it." Less than a second later, he produced, "LiberEight is planning to sabotage key infrastructures."

"Of what description?" Kiera asked, rife with exasperation-laced irritation as she neared headquarters.

"That I don't know, yet," Alec admitted.

"Okay. When you have something more concrete, fill me in."

"It's what I do…"

Smiling at his admission, and done parking, Kiera raced inside police headquarters.


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes...it was better to let everything just float. Let things go so losing your mind didn't happen. Of course, ever since having been transported here, it was as if she lost a bit more of what used to hold the fabric of her mind together. She wasn't sure what it would take to get her objectivity back. The kind that served her well. The kind that was a given...

Objectivity was a tenuous commodity. How feasible was it to be objective when Liber8 terrorists were in the throes of manipulating an unsuspecting populous even as she thought how nice it would be to ride a horse. People here in 2012 still rode them. Kiera wondered what it would be like to sit atop one of the magnificent animals.

"Alec…"

"Yes, Kiera?"

"Do you have horses on your farm?"

The techie chuckled over that. Uh…yeah. What self-respecting farm didn't have them? Thoughtfully, he replied, "Uh huh. Sure do."

The light in Kiera's eyes sparked brighter. She saw herself extending a hand to rub a steed's nose, feeling the majestic beast nuzzle her hand. In her mind's eye, stroking the horse's flowing mane, Kiera smiled. Lost in her private equine musing, she asked, "How many?"

"A fairly respectable count of fifteen." A note of pride was noticeable, and, permeated what he said next. "My family has raised horses for generations. Fine breeders of notable stock."

The wheels turned faster in Kiera's head, her brain clicking. The firing of cells couldn't keep up with her enthusiasm. It would be…wonderful—no—an extraordinary experience, one she yearned to have. One she could share with Sam, if she ever made it back to him. What if he were all grown up, with a family of his own by the time she returned? What if he had died? Numbed by that thought, she hesitated. Willing herself to cease throwing the discouraging darts, she forded on. "Could I…" As she let her voice trail, she wondered how she was going to get there. She'd work out that detail if she were actually going. What she wanted to do might sound frivolous. She was here for far more important things. Still, she wanted this chunk of reality. It was important to her.

"Alec, could I ask a favor?"

"What? Only one?"

"It's not one of my usuals." Kiera quietly lamented, wishing that her son was here so she could take him to see a real, living, breathing horse. Those simulations and replicas were no substitute for doing the spirited animal justice. "I'd like to see a horse. That is, if it would be all right."

"A horse? You want to see a horse? How come?" Alec couldn't help himself, speculating. "Will seeing one help you discover some arcane data about LiberEight?"

"No. It has nothing to do with LiberEight."

"So what's your request about?"

"It's about being personal. Carlos and I stood in-between the seething protestors and police personnel mounted on horses. I didn't have a chance to touch them. I want to touch a horse, Alec." She sighed inaudibly, hearing how absurd she'd sounded. It was too crazy of an idea. The abstracts and the concretes of this timeframe exerted a siren pull on her, but it didn't mean she should act on them. She was disciplined enough to know that objectivity wasn't a luxury, nor a whim. She beat him to the kibosh, one she was setting in motion. "Forget I ever—"

"I think it's a great idea," Alec seamlessly slid in. "When are you coming?"

"Anytime you say." Kiera was ecstatic.

Choosing a time suitable for her paying this surprise visit, one wherein no one of his family would be on hand to ask nosy questions, Alec expedited, "Come here tomorrow. At noon. We'll have the homestead all to ourselves. Mom's got a doctor's appointment in town. My step-dad's away on business. My stepbrother, Julian, is away a lot now. Ever since the Exetrol fiasco." He looked up at the screen he saw Kiera on. "Works for you?"

"Yeah, it does, barring a case."

"Hey, it'll be fun. See ya then."

"I'm looking forward to it," Kiera expressed. She grinned wider, the way she used to when she spent instructive time with Sam. "Thanks, Alec."

"You're welcome. Want to see some horsies, eh?"

"Yes. Can't wait."

"All right. You've got it. Night."

"Night…"

Then, she wondered bemusedly. Were horses and _horsies_ the same thing?


	6. Chapter 6

Home sweet home, but for how much longer? Kiera surveyed the tight confines of her apartment with chary eyes. Kellog and his uninvited interference, she grumbled. He had ruined any sense of security she had begun to feel here. She had begun liking this neighborhood, getting used to where things were. His intrusion and theft of the component from the time device had effectively undermined any of the peace of mind, relatively speaking, she felt.

Realistically, where could she go without this sort of thing happening again? He had successfully broken into here, her sanctuary. Of course she hadn't booby-trapped the place. She didn't have any right to do that to private property, no sanctions. What would stop Matthew from doing the same thing whenever he liked, wherever she went? The man was a bane to her existence along with being a benefit. The sort of relationship they had was stranger than strange.

He was paradoxical, all too ready to gain her confidence only to sell her out to the highest bidder. Kellog was all about making money. His critical knowledge about future financial climates served him well on this present worldwide commercial scene. It made Kiera less philosophical about the man's intentions overall. He made her uncomfortable, always insinuating that doing things for each other did not have to be solely on a business basis.

Kellog's idea of their getting together left Kiera cold. Favoring him with anything other than information that was mutually beneficial was out of the question. Even if she hadn't been a married woman, Matthew wasn't her type. True, he was charming, as vain a man as she had ever met, but he didn't appeal to her. His being a master at manipulation, his ability to talk a person into doing his bidding lent nothing to his attractiveness. His boundless charisma irked Kiera, pushing her away instead of drawing her to Kellog.

With each multi-faceted interaction, although advantageous for them both, she knew it was wise to be wary. Never allowing herself to be drawn into the schemer's silky web of amoral double-dealing. As she had mentioned to him, she was more than just a pretty face, but this pretty face was a smart cookie.

Of the three males she was out of necessity involved with, the two she trusted with her life were Alec and Carlos. The kid was as sweet as adolescents came, despite his brainy edge. The genius boy had her HUD up and running, which had been instrumental in exonerating her partner from Alicia's murder. Her visit to his family's farm caused her to see Alec in a different light. He breathed, ate and slept technology, but he was grounded with feet firmly planted in rich, dark soil. Though he saw himself as an outsider, from time to time, it didn't prevent him from lending a hand to whomever needed his help. Which led him to back Kiera up all he could.

Alec hadn't exaggerated about the horses. His family owned breathtaking creatures. Without exception, the livestock had not raised a fuss, not a hoof in protest. Any horse Kiera had wanted to mount had let her.

Inevitably, Kiera's thoughts turned to her partner on the force, how close he had come to being convicted of his lover's murder. How sincere she saw he had been about their making a pact about being truthful with each other here on out, how much she wished she could be. Abruptly, her phone was active.

She hastened to answer it, anticipating the basso register of Carlos' deep voice. "Hey. Yes. I'm home."

He wasn't through with getting what he wanted, that pact between them. He couldn't let their not having it rest. "Busy?"

Hearing the note of unspoken exigency in his voice, Kiera put her concerns on hold. He sounded uneasy, as though whatever he said could offend her. What had he really done, aside from using shoddy judgment, then acting on it? "No, not really. What's up?" Her usage of 2012 vernacular was becoming easier all the time, sounding more natural and acceptable to her own ears.

"Uh, Kiera, I've…uh…"

Hearing his voice trail off, she sighed. The sudden desire to cup his face within her hands rose up in her. If sheepish were a living, breathing person right now, it would be Carlos. There weren't words to do justice for how concerned she'd been for him, upset with him too. She hardly thought of him being a celibate, but she couldn't help but feel somewhat dismayed over his actions. Not for a moment had she believed he'd been guilty of the crime. What he'd been guilty of was having blurred the line between work and personal involvement. Something she knew was tricky all too well.

Softly, which wasn't atypical of her, she began speaking, more like cooing, actually. Her voice rose incrementally in response to whatever danger they were in. She had it lower than low now, wishing she hadn't been so short with him some hours before.

"Carlos…"

"Yeah."

"About that pact."

"What about it?"

"Can it be one that's mutually understood between us?" Kiera closed her eyes, mentally imaging the handsome, above board man give into his smile that was no longer waking. This was inevitable too; she meeting him halfway, conceding whenever possible. That's what solidified a partnership. "Words aren't necessary. What we have goes much deeper."

Carlos took her sentiment to his grasping heart, wrapping figurative arms around the mind and heart that had promulgated it.

"I need to believe that." As contrite as he sounded, he wasn't sure it would be enough.

"Believe it," Kiera urged with a note of finality.

There was no room for doubt. What they were agreeing to pushed

ambiguity and half-truths the rest of the way out, where they truly belonged. The Cameron/Fonnegra alliance was being granted permission to thrive.

"I'd like that."

His touch of gratitude coaxed her concessionary smile to blossom until it firmly established itself. When Kiera smiled it left no room for doubt. She liked the understanding they had reached too.


	7. Chapter 7

Her forehead sank, deeper and deeper into the laminated surface of the discussion table. It felt as if her skin had fused with the rectangular piece of office furniture. Tiredness bit into her muscles; they hurt with riveting intensity. A lethargy, the likes of which she had never experienced before, saturated her battered and bruised body. Her mind was shot. Her thinking ability was sluggish, her thoughts incohesive and truncated. Her cellular memory recall was repaired, but still felt glitchy.

The CMR was her edge. Stripped of it, the meager advantage she had over Liber8 would be gone. Horror had coursed through her when she'd been unable to contact Alec, her lifeline. That kind of being 'alone' had rocked her to her core.

Kiera blinked several times, her head throbbing, her brain seemingly still affected by the attempt to take it over for nefarious purposes. What a lapse of good judgment that had been, slipping on that helmet, allowing herself to be compromised as she'd been. There could be only one answer for whom was behind the bizarre attempt to seize control of her brain—Liber8. Heaving a draggy sigh, she clawed the table with both hands.

She tensed at the sudden pressure of the broad hand pressing into her back. Gently, it rubbed circulatory patterns into it. The warm soothing voice rippled, seeping into her ears. "Relax. It's just me." Hearing Carlos' strong, yet in this instance, mild basso delivery grounded her. The shadowy phantoms and whispered utterances plaguing her mind stilled. "I came back to check if you'd still be here. And you are."

Not bothering to raise her head from the hard, unforgiving table, Kiera nodded. She spoke her words into it. "I am."

Following her 'hmmm,' he replied, "Are you all right?"

Of course she'd been better, so, so much, and she told him so. "I have been. Now…not so much."

He upped the intensity of the circles he was rubbing into her back. "Don't tell me you plan on spending the night here."

Sounding confirmatory, but without a trace of conceit Kiera said, "No. I hadn't planned on it, but getting myself out of this chair doesn't seem to want to happen right now."

He tried keeping any hint of gallantry from his voice. He knew she wouldn't appreciate it, 'ironsides' Cameron as he secretly thought of her. It came as a wake-up call that despite her steely backbone, she possessed a vulnerability he'd had no choice but to witness, owing to this problematic case they had tousled with. "Need an assist?" He wrinkled his nose at her, fully expecting her to say that she didn't, she could make it all right.

Her norm…

Kiera raised herself up from the table in stages. Their eyes met and locked, no trace of tension between them while they gazed into the other's eyes. After chewing on her lower lip, a bit, she remained as still as glass. "I wouldn't mind…."

Offering his hand to her, Carlos smiled. Under his watchful eye, Kiera took it and—with unmistakable gratitude—allowed him to help her to her feet. Lightly, she swayed on them. With both hands on her, he steadied her, held her as though she were a priceless porcelain figurine, easily breakable. Though, the Protector was far from being that, she accepted her partner's succor.

"Thanks…"

"Don't mention it." Giving her time to get her bearings, Carlos, to his credit, kept the exchange easy, like it was nothing out of the ordinary, a partner helping out his partner. No big deal. But, he couldn't help noticing Kiera's general languor and listless manner; it worried him. "Drive you home, if you'd like…"

Her furrowed brow, in conjunction with that thoughtful look in her eyes which materialized when she was thinking something over, looked intrinsic. True, her brain had been "hacked," but she wasn't brain dead, not entirely. Still, she felt far from being her on-top-of-things, take-no-prisoners self. She nodded several times in succession. "Okay, yes. You can."

Carlos' look of concern bathed in satisfaction was transparent. He had hoped like anything that she would answer affirmatively. From all outward appearances, she really looked whipped, thoroughly done in. The cat had dragged her in and peed on her before getting in several scratches. He wasn't claiming total credit for her present shaken condition. They had both given each other an out-and-out shellacking. Man—could she kick-butt. Kiera had moves he never knew existed out of a mixed martial arts cage. Good thing she was on their side. Of course, he was no slouch in the beat-down arena either.

As Carlos had accurately acknowledged, if it hadn't been for Kiera's clandestine source, she most likely would have shot him dead. She reminded herself to thank Kellog when contact with him was a must. She debated whether to tell Carlos Matthew's name. Deciding against, Kiera thought it best not to say anymore than she already had about the flashy hedonist.

"Don't give how you'll get back here tomorrow another thought," Carlos rustled graciously, guiding Kiera toward his car. Hers wasn't parked too far from his. Her car's right fender bore the ill-effects of her mind having been hijacked. A little well-placed hammering would smooth out the kinks.

"I wasn't."

"I'll ring you before I come pick you up, tomorrow." He gave a short, bark of a laugh as he lightly squeezed her elbow. "How's that?"

"That's fine," she answered tiredly, leaning into his firm, considerate touch.

Carlos resisted the urge to remove his arm from her elbow to anchor it around her waist. The urge was strong, but it would be bad form. He resisted the tug of his personal feelings, ones that were growing stronger for this no-nonsense woman, this living, breathing pillar of strength and courage. They could not rule him. The insertion of this woman into his life hadn't been the easiest transition. Now that she was in it professionally, her being something more to him than just his partner fighting crime colored his thinking, tinkered with his emotions. She had even begun to invade his dreams. He was loath to tell her anything about them, yet he wished he could. In the wee hours of the night when lying next to her was nearly reality, he yearned to tell Kiera how important it was that she was in his life. She meant the world to him, perhaps even more.

"I'll have you home in a jiff."

Kiera smiled somewhat weakly, some Sleepytime tea would be nice, she thought, hot, sweet, strong and wonderful. She yawned, resting her head against the headrest. Idly, she pondered what Sam might be doing right now. A safe and practiced driver, Carlos had her home just as her eyes were beginning to droop. Copying how he had handled her from headquarters to the car, he repeated the caregiving process, shepherding her into her apartment.

Helping her with taking her coat off, Carlos offered, "Now…what can I do?"

"You've done enough already." Lowering herself to one of the two chairs in her place, Kiera studied him quizzically, deciding to exploit him a tad more. "Are you any good at making tea?"

"Can do. What kind?" Dutifulness oozed from him.

Her eyes tracked to where she kept her blends. "Sleepytime. It's become a fast favorite."

"Brilliant." Without further preamble, he undertook the task. He watched her sleepy eyes, blinking of their own volition, as she sipped his brew. He wished there had been a lemon handy to squeeze some of its juice into her cup. At least she had honey, clover. "Okay?" He waited on pins and needles for her verdict.

"Perfect," Kiera purred.

_Like you_…he longed to say that to her, for her to tell him she thought that he was. Smiling anyway, he would have to be content with fantasizing. "Good." He stood, looking and feeling somewhat gratuitous, as though whatever he said next would flounder. "You'll be all right then…"

"Of course." The lilt in her voice spurred her on. "I'll shower."

Carlos' blood pressure rose a few points. His mind clouded, envisioning her gloriously without a stitch on. Hemming and hawing, superfluously clearing his throat, he came to the point. "Sounds like a wise idea."

Kiera arched an eyebrow. "And it's my own…" As her voice trailed off she had to smile before finishing her tea. Her not remembering anything about what had happened would harass her for quite some time. "Again…I'm sorry I nearly killed you."

He managed to cloak his embarrassment in sincerity. "But, you didn't. That's what counts, right? Like I said, remember to thank your mystery snitch."

_Oh, that's not all I'm going to do_, Kiera sagely thought. "I will."

"Well then, I guess it's goodnight." What else would it be, Carlos considered, reluctant to leave her, knowing he had to. At her door, in a friendly gesture, he kissed her forehead, well, more like gave it a peck. "Night." Wanting to tuck her in was in his mind, but the more rational side of himself waved that off. "I'll call you."

"Yes, you will. I'll buy breakfast."

That touched him as he saw her in his mind's eye quitting the shower, wrap herself in a towel, her facial cheeks moist, all dewy and pink as rosy as bubble gum, the kind he used to chew as a kid. His eyes went a bit out of focus for a moment, imagining her hair piled atop her head wrapped in a towel too, an ethereal tendril lying alongside the nape of her neck. His fingers toying with it, he getting lost in her. His going weak in the knees was a natural progression. Clearing his throat, his voice husky, he bid her a doting farewell, once again.

As she looked after him, making his way down the dim hallway, Kiera closed her eyes, seeing those virtual shooters, taking pot shots at her behind virtual cover. Sighing, she closed her door and headed for the closet-sized bathroom. As the steam rose from the water shooting through the showerhead, she knew how important it was to not lose perspective, despite mixed emotions that dogged her.

The family she had left behind still needed her, whole, intact and clear-thinking. She made herself examine what being here in 2012 meant to her, not losing focus. Twirling a loose tendril of her hair, Kiera thought about Carlos measuring out just the right amount of honey to go into her tea. _With such exacting care._

She smiled again, losing herself in just one of many yielding moments. When she opened her eyes, all trace of the misty, fogging steam was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Her affable, yet obsequious go-getter, acting as host, had poured her another drink. "Bottoms up," he cajoled. Boldly, he winked. Kellog waited for Kiera to tilt her glass, allowing the strong liquor to slide down her throat. "Go on. Live a little. You haven't stopped fighting since we got here. Weak drinks won't kill you."

"You call this weak?" The lip of her glass teetered on Kiera's lower lip. Both the glass and her lip wobbled.

"Come on. What is it? You have _nothing_ to feel guilty about. As I said before…you and I will never be able to relate to _these_ people, in this backwards time, the way we're able to relate to each other."

"How many times must I tell you? I have a family. I won't betray my husband, nor my son."

The glass trembled less imperceptively in her hand. Greg and Sam, the irreplaceable persons bound to her, and she to them, in 2077, the two who meant everything to her…this problematic time warp divorced her from them. The separation, the deprivation, the tremendous loss worked on her every day, wreaking havoc with her peace of mind, pushing her closer and closer to going over the brink. Increasingly, the grip she had on her sanity weakened.

Slowly, subdued, Kiera lowered the glass from her lips. Not another drop passed from the glass to her mouth. Clearly, she saw what Matthew wanted; she wasn't giving it, had no inkling of an intention. She had not paid him this visit to satisfy his lust. Frankly, she was at a loss why she had wound up here.

What _had_ she been thinking?

She set the full glass down. The look in her eyes spoke volumes. "Thanks for the drink. Just the _one_." It really was good stuff. The initial belt that she'd imbibed helped her see things explicitly. For instance, that night, she suddenly remembered. Her partner had stopped by her place to share a drink with her. What he had brought had been good too, without a thought of there being strings attached to his friendly gesture, a far cry from this setting.

Sharper images replaced fuzzier ones. Kiera gasped as the enhanced clarity of her son's and husband's faces sobered her.

Quite naturally, their faces coalesced with her partner's, Carlos Fonnegra, who lay in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines keeping vigil over his vital signs. Surreal that he'd nearly died. It would have been heartbreaking if he had. The bullet had ripped through his skin like butter, the belly wound, a true bleeder. He'd lost buckets of blood—and still lived, although the pallor of death had weighed heavily on his countenance, having transformed it into an ashen mask.

Thankfully, Carlos hadn't perished, Kiera rejoiced, while giving Kellog a wan smile. What further tricks did he have up his sleeve?

Carlos' admission about his coming from strong stock must have been true. _Those indomitable Fonnegra men and women too_, Kiera contemplated. His close call with death and the fight he'd put up, brought her around, forced her to reassess.

She frowned. Indeed, what was she doing _here_? This wasn't what she needed, let alone wanted. A popular turn of phrase, embraced by the 'locals' popped into her head. This was classic. She was a 2077 woman, making a "booty call" on a devil-may-care man from the same spatio-temporal scheme. She could see that Kellog was trying not to leer. He was, however, a suggestive sigh away from reeling her in, or so he thought.

It was time she left, made her move, time for screwing her head back on straight, where it belonged.

"See ya…"

"Ah, c'mon. Where're you going?" Kellog's arm extended, his fingers stretched in elongation. _Such a waste_, he lamented, seeing her drift over to the opening she'd come through. "I won't bite."

She made an effort to fuel her faint smile. "I'll take that under advisement."

"For next time?" He winked with a wry smile curving his lips. "I was hoping you'd see that being alone needn't be an option."

She sighed, sounding as if her breath were cumulative, the result of many days of holding it in. "Oh, there are always options. Just as there are always decisions to be made. I'm doing just that. Choosing my options, making the right decisions." Over her shoulder as she departed, she bade, "Thanks for the drink…and your forgiveness. Good night."

Matthew raised his glass, canted it and smiled. Returning the sentiment, reassuring her that his clemency was unconditional, Matthew regarded her withdrawing form. Under his breath, his chuckling emanated from deep within his throat. Fidelity became her, adorned her, he thought. Something he'd seen in her eyes fanned his flame. "Another time then, Beautiful One. There's sure to be. You've felt it too. The attraction, drawing us together. I can be a patient man, when it's to my advantage." He lifted his glass to his lips and sipped. "In time, memories fade, along with priorities. Everything is, after all, a matter of time…"

* * *

Kiera conferred a critical eye on the aseptic environment. People recovered in such an archaic setting? It boggled her mind every time she set foot in one of these early 21st century hospitals. Efficiency tempered by a sense of failure, helplessness, and resignation roamed these disinfected halls.

"Where can I find Carlos Fonnegra?" She splayed her fingers on the desk before her.

Giving Kiera a patient, though chary eye, the fatigued nurse on duty, tolerantly manning her station, curtly replied, "The Detective is in ICU, west." He had just been given additional meds. Determinedly, Kiera set off, already knowing where that particular section was. This wasn't the first time Carlos had suffered grave bodily harm. His being tough was mandatory. Would he have lasted this long if he weren't? Not sounding like an afterthought, Nurse Wells' qualification halted Kiera's determined gait. "No visitors. For the time being."

"I'm Detective Fonnegra's partner on the Vancouver Police force." The bark of a CPS Protector permeated her voice. She glared rigidly at the employee. "I'm aware of his condition."

"He's critical."

"Yes—_I know_." Then her voice mellowed and she made her smile come out to play. "I plan on staying with him the rest of the night."

"Who authorized this?"

Not batting an eye, Kiera spared her a grimace. Levelly, she replied, "If you need authorization, contact Inspector Dillion, _our_ superior. He'll authorize it." She forged on, her eyes locked and loaded with intensity, disregarding Nurse Wells' dwindling protestations.

Wells promptly went for her phone and began dialing.

Kiera got off on the floor where the west wing's ICU was. She kept going until she spied Carlos just as she had imagined him, stretched out on a bed, with head and torso slightly elevated. Monitoring machines, their intermittent blips and chirps lending background noise, tirelessly updated his condition. Careful to be as unobtrusive as possible, she positioned one of the two visitors' chairs provided close to the bed. The same hand, which hours before she'd held when it, as well as hers, had been bloody, she fitted into her same hand. Her grasp was tenacious as she held it tight.

His other arm had an IV attached to it.

He certainly had a pulse, although his heartbeats fell a bit below a normal heart's at rest, 60 to 100 beats a minute for an adult. Kiera listened to him breathe, listened to him cleave to life. _We're here one day, could be gone the next_, she inevitably thought; that held true whether it was 2012 or 2077. His inhalations and exhalations were somewhat shallow. She squeezed his hand harder. His breath hitched momentarily, but it soon settled down into its uninterrupted pattern. She bit her lower lip, bringing his hand up to her cheek. The ashen aspect of his face no longer prevailed. His more healthy coloring bathed it. Impulsivity influenced both of her hands having her cup the one she held at her face.

Yes, she wanted to speak his name, but she refrained. She had confessed her truth to him because he deserved to know it before he died, if this had been his last day on earth. Again, Kiera celebrated his survival. Remaining silent, she thought back to all that they had been through thus far since that fateful day when they'd first met in the rubble the blast had left behind.

Barely audible, she murmured for the second time this day, "You are a good man, Carlos." She cradled his hand, caressing the sturdy knuckles with her soft lips. "Get well, grow stronger." Like a mantra, she beseeched, "I need you in this fight. I can't do it alone…" Emotionally, with minimal thought, she rose from the chair, still clinging to his hand. "I won't do it without you." Leaning down, poised above his forehead, she pressed her lips firmly into it. The unmistakable scent of germicide and alpha male mingled in her nostrils.

Carlos stirred, groaning. The heart monitor spiked, in conjunction with his heart pounding. He struggled to open his eyes. His heart rate had gone up, way up. His eyes fluttered open and locked with Kiera's. "Ki-Kiera," he managed, giving it his all.

"Yes."

"It's really you."

"Yes; it's really me."

Pain medication had stoked his subconscious. He'd dreamt of her so many times under medicinal influence. Separating reality from figments conjured up in slumberland was a monumental task.

Licking his lips, as his eyes quivered to close, Carlos sighed. "Don't go…"

"Wasn't planning to." She pulled the chair closer still to his bed. With the fingers of the hand, which she had never surrendered, she threaded her fingers with his. Pausing to reflect, Kiera reveled in the contact she shared with this man. He was the closest thing she had to her having a champion here. As long as she could remember, she liked strong men. She revered leaders, in the truest sense of the word, led by their noble consciences, and despised manipulative posers, driven by their ignoble wants.

This resilient man, whose hand she garnered, was demonstrably the former. His heart beat stronger still as her thoughts wafted, coasting into the future.

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

Jason was crazy, well-meaning, but reality-challenged. In her desperation, how much had she wanted to believe that he could get her back to where she belonged. Against all odds, Kiera had burned to believe that he was as rational as she was, which was debatable as long as the separation from her family lengthened. Tin foil and worn-out rubbery tubes did not a time machine make, woefully incapable of transporting her back to them. It was a fool's pipe-dream.

She had to get out of here, this moment! If not back to her loved ones, then leave this city for the time being, before she went stark raving mad. With her cover having almost been blown, she wasn't sure if coming _here_ was the wisest thing to do before going off. Kiera wasn't sure how long she would be away, but away she had to go. She needed _time_…she scoffed at the notion. Since when had she been afforded that luxury since she had arrived here in the midst of this space-time expansive chaos?

She stopped grappling with this complicated thing brewing between Kellog and herself. Whatever had transpired between them the other night, before she had gone to Carlos' hospital bed, she had already shelved. Had they, or hadn't they? The over consumption of alcohol had muddied those waters.

Or, so she had thought. Having called him, less than an hour ago, airing how lost again she felt, Kiera flip-flopped. Kellog had suggested that he take her on a boat ride, far enough away so she could clear her head this time instead of befuddling it. Emphasis would be placed on regrouping sober this go round.

His proposal was tempting…

Hesitating before she knocked, Kiera knew that this was the right thing to do. It felt good being here if for no other reason than to see the man's big brown eyes light up when he saw her at his door. Was it selfish to have her own personal 'cheering section?' Having been here before, it didn't feel strange. Why would it? Though not being home, it was close enough. Strong, tender feelings did powerful things to one's perception. If there was one person whom she needed to bid farewell to, it was this open-minded giant of a man.

Finally, she was willing to admit to herself that he had her back as well as her heart, a heart desperate for solace.

She stepped forward, closer to his apartment door. Following her knock, she waited for him to answer. She willed her wildly beating heart to slow its rapid, ragged clip. Anticipating what to expect, Kiera responded to the faint footfalls she believed she heard. He would be a tsunami of surging questions, demanding that she give him real answers, not half-truths. Her holding back what deserved to be answered took its toll, bit by bit. Niggling exhaustion enveloped her.

Kiera, in spite of wanting to see him again, possibly for what could be the last time, or, at the least, for a very long while, had a hard time wrestling with that incongruous subject. Each passing day she spent in this context brought more questions, few answers, but inevitably, more lies she spun.

It was conceivable that he wasn't home. Despite the late hour, he could still be at headquarters. Today had been a morass of minutiae and dreck. Exhaustive hashing out to make sense of it all would be mandatory. _Have fun with that_, Kiera thought. Her mind-blown partner was probably cursing her this very moment. He had every right to. Thanks to her useful suit, she had disappeared without a trace, having left Agent Gardiner gaping in utter disbelief.

Which explained her showing up on her partner's doorstep for a change. She had no choice; he deserved more from her, not less. He deserved to see for himself what he would always mean to her.

She'd been here just once; this made twice. Hello…goodbye.

Not resisting, she knocked again, harder this time. Then, as though in slow-motion, she realized he had a doorbell. She mashed it in.

He peeped through his door's eyehole and seeing who it was, Carlos exclaimed, "Kiera!"

She stepped back from the door as he opened it. "I…"

"Get in here—" His hand was on her, pulling her inside.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine. You?" He peppered her with pointed looks. "What happened to you after the blast? Gardiner claimed you disappeared in the wreckage. Poof, gone."

"I've been temporarily reassigned." She canned the lie chomping to leap from her mouth. She went with the inclination to be as truthful as she desired to be with him. She kept thinking how much she owed him. "The decision was mine."

"Not your mysterious superior's? Ashraf? Ashrof? Whatever… The guy Gardiner said validated your credentials."

Her fragile smile held. "No." Kiera allowed Carlos to lead her to his plush, light-colored couch and he invited her to sit. She did, foregoing protest. The feeling that she owed him led the way. Truly, he warranted this slight concession. He joined her on the couch, persistent in trying to read her mood. Her sigh filled the pause. It went on, garnering dramatic emphasis, longer than she intended it to last. Hesitancy past, she said, "It's been…" _Stop_— She told herself not to turn this into melodramatic woe. "I came to say goodbye." Short and to the point, her hallmark.

"Goodbye…" The word cut him like the proverbial knife, in this instance, a serrated one. "Is that 'goodbye,' as in I'm never going to see you again?"

His cavalier demeanor wore thin. The lump that had risen in his throat had boulder dimensions.

Visibly shaken, yet welded to her patented faraway look, Kiera wielded, "My briefing is scheduled in a few days. I really have no way of knowing."

Her response, coupled with her nonchalant tone, deflated him. Her bite had hit its mark. This was it, the kiss-off, the parting of the ways. "It's unlikely I'm ever going to see you again, isn't it?"

"I…I…" Fiercely, she looked away, embedding her hand into her mouth. Teary and on the brink of dissolving into an effusive outpouring of emotion, Kiera closed her eyes. "C-can't say."

"Then, I will," Carlos said with just the right tincture of poignancy. "Even though you're going deep undercover to infiltrate LiberEight and I won't know where you are, or what's happening with you, I'll be with you in spirit, Kiera. No measure of distance and inaccessibility can prevent that. Understand?"

Nodding furiously, but unable to put into words all she felt, Kiera kept nodding. Her handprint was leaving its impression on the skin close to her mouth. She gritted her teeth, desperate for holding on to this _moment_, while not falling apart. _Time_, _again_…she thought. "Th-thank…" she tried squeezing out through her teeth.

"Remember, if you _need_ me, _call_ me."

With blood pounding in her skull, Kiera wanted to yell it. Scream it, shriek it, with the angst like lead, which she harbored, what better time than right now? With her spirit quaking within herself, with everything she had, she yearned for him to know. _I need you, Carlos_. _This isn't my choice, it's an imperative. I can't work with your force and accomplish what I must_, Kiera inwardly lamented. _It's beyond complicated and I can't keep lying to you so you'll understand. The complication is exigent. There's no other recourse than this_. "If I can, I will."

"You'd better." As he reached out to touch her, her snuffling began as she tried catching her breath, forcing the welling tears to dissipate. Spitfire effort wasn't the roaring success it usually was. His overprotectiveness could do nothing less than to kick in. "Officially, we may not be partners anymore, but here." Vigorously, with four rigid fingers, he thumped the center of his chest where, beneath, his heart beat like a kettle drum. "Always."

"Carlos…"

And then the not so strangest thing happened. Kiera let him, without further words, willingly accepting the comfort he bathed her in. He coaxed her into his arms, she letting him hold her tight, until the kiss they shared became the sweetest reality.

An hour later, Kiera left Carlos' place, bound for Kellog, bound and determined to sort out the seemingly inconceivable and trenchantly quixotic. She stood on the deck of his superfluous luxury yacht stunned.

Alec's message buzzed in her head…"_Your journey here was no accident. Truth is, I'm the one who sent you back in time. You're not going to believe why_…."

Here she was, having been catapulted back 65 years into the past, currently, more flummoxed than ever before. What was she supposed to do, now, having been given the little voice in her head's latest bombshell?

TBC, of course...


	10. Chapter 10

Kiera was back, boy was she ever, just as stubborn and as dead set on having things her way since the day he'd met her. Why had she gone away in the first place? Though she had returned, there was nothing sentimental about it. The expression, 'falling off the ends of the earth' had never rung truer. Kiera had not contacted him in any way. He'd tried worming the reason for her exodus out of her, but her stonewalling was predictably intransigent. Just like old times, Carlos mused. Why would she be forthcoming about where she'd been, what she'd been doing? Her unwillingness to yield was her trademark.

Oh, how it _so_ messed with his head.

His having not heard from her had messed with it more than he would have thought it ever could. What was it about this woman?

He swore that he wouldn't call her, but in the end his refusing caved. Once he had learned of her return, he sought excuses to make contact. He found himself needing to reach out to her.

Before Carlos had called her, he'd thought about just how much he had missed her. He wouldn't breathe a word of it to her. Despite their having shared a kiss before she had taken off, the embrace hadn't been some vague sort of seal, an approval on a relationship. She had sounded somewhat pleased to hear from him, but it was hardly a shout of jubilation. They worked great together, which had nothing to do with their becoming more.

Carlos blinked; a pout was beginning to form. What had he just thought? She and he having something more between them than just thwarting terrorists, as well as bringing less flamboyant, though no less villainous lawbreakers to justice? Though it pained him, whenever he allowed himself to think this way, Kiera Cameron was out of his league, way, way out.

He was a good detective, not Robocop 2013.

Why in the world would he want a committed relationship? He within one wasn't a good fit, judging from his past of failed ones. The one woman, an ingenuous young thing, whom he had given his heart to had crushed it.

Of course, he considered, while slugging down his last bit of coffee, how Kiera's being back was going to mess with his head so much more. Having her close to him probably wasn't what he needed, but a part of him was over the moon that she was going to be. Nobody treated him like he was nothing special the way she did.

He smiled, going deeper into his thoughts. The enigma with the beautiful face would do nothing to relieve his endless questions about who she really was. Carlos feared that Agent Gardiner would have his pound of flesh, her lovely meat with moxie, sooner or later. He told himself that thinking like that was worse than defeatist. It was disloyal. That wasn't what Kiera needed right now. She required his allegiance, his dependability. She could count on him one hundred percent.

He wouldn't make discrediting Kiera easy for that scrounger Gardiner.

As he had just begun thinking that he would have her back regardless of what she asked of him, he had a visitor. He ignored the caller until the apartment doorbell sliced into his musings a second time.

"Yeah, coming."

Carlos threw open the door, not inordinately surprised by his visitor's identity. Kiera glided past him, his back pressed up against the door to make ample room for her passage.

"Had your first cuppa joltin' Joe yet?" he hailed.

"No. Not yet. Wouldn't mind some." She actually smiled and it wasn't some anemic imitation of one. What worked her lips affected what he saw in her eyes, those incredible eyes he'd missed so, so much.

"Comin' right up." Carlos' body language suggested that she take a seat where she customarily did and he'd fill her cup. He was an agile sprinter. "Any leads on the mayor's assassin?" By rote, he knew how she took coffee, not wholly black, but close enough, with no sugar. He lightened up her not completely black coffee with light cream. The first time she'd taken his brew her way, her eyes had lit up. A ripple of warmth and homespun retrospection had sizzled in those excellent dark brown orbs. It had been a revelation, his having had the privilege to watch her inexplicably thaw in that moment of time.

Carlos set her cup down close to her fingers and sat across from her at the island in his kitchen. It was a functional, yet inviting setting wherein he was in the habit of showing off his culinary skills. Kiera recalled that occasion he had made paella. Maybe, if he didn't see it as an imposition, she could get him to make it for her again.

"No, not yet." She held back for a moment, recalling the promise she had half-promised to herself during her absence. After much introspective and retrospective soul-searching, she had resolved to be a better communicator for his sake, and perhaps for hers too. "LiberEight is all over it."

Silence hung between them as time kept lengthening.

"All over it as in a member of the original cell made the shot?"

Kiera, with the lip of the cup resting on her lower lip, looked as if she used the cup to mask the lower half of her face. Into the vessel she concurred, "Yes."

"Your new friend—"

"_What_ new friend?" Kiera arched, the honed edge quality of her voice clanked in Carlos' ears. Something dark and unreadable festered in her eyes. For a moment or so, she had difficulty forming coherent thoughts. She had no friends here, save for this exotic, straight-shooter of a man, who liked fixing her coffee just so before serving it to her.

The kiss they had shared took some of the edge off when she added, "Someone we know in common?"

"Wish I could say _we_ didn't. None other than our mutual pain-in-the _buttocks_, Agent Gardiner. Paid me a visit at headquarters after I left you at Stanley Park."

"Oh?" Her icy nonchalance belied the qualms giving birth to the sickish feeling in the pit of her stomach, growing in intensity and duration whenever she heard that bane's name. "Thirsting for my capture so he can hurl me into a perpetually-locked cage, is he? So he can have the satisfaction of hearing me howl till I go deaf?"

Carlos arched an eyebrow, drilling into her eyes a strange look. Where had that come from? "Huh?"

Kiera shook her head in dismissal. "Oops…my paranoiac tendencies showing."

"You? With those?"

"Doesn't everybody?" Her tone became the one he was used to, the one that brooked no levity. "Why did he visit you?" Then she thought to inform, "He paid me one too yesterday."

"That man, in a word, is a nuisance. Claims he'll be keeping tabs on us along with you." Carlos was at the sink, placing his drained coffee cup into it. The cup joined the rest of assorted unwashed dishes and utensils. They should have been in the dishwasher. Crime fighting dictated its own schedule, which left little time, sometimes, for tending to household chores.

"He thinks I can't be trusted."

"He's the one," Carlos averred, turning around fast so his eyes aligned with hers. "We're not going through all that again." He was at her side in three large steps, glaring at her, but his slow burn lacked antagonism. His eyes were too soft. "Kiera, I trust you. Never stopped."

Just as solemnly, she replied, "Carlos, I trust you. Never stopped. Won't. Not ever."

He claimed both of her hands, brought them to his lips and kissed the twin pairs of knuckles. "Signed, sealed, delivered…I'm yours…"

Unable to stifle the sudden rush of heat and attendant color to her cheeks, overcome with a slew of simpering emotions, eager to boil, she replied, "Agreed."

"Welcome back." Carlos held on to her hands as though giving them back was out of the question.

"Good to be…back." Her mask of impasse developed a sizeable chink; sentiment jammed through. "It's your job, Dillon's too. Arresting the mayor's assassin and stopping LiberEight on the line as well. I've got it. All of it. But not without you backing me up, Carlos."

Stunned, he resisted the urgent necessity of pulling her into his arms and smothering her with the cornucopia of his affection. Their eyes locked, their lips were moments away from following suit.

Kiera faintly heard her mobile phone ringing. Before Carlos surrendered her hands, she squeezed his. His fell away so she could answer her phone.

"I…I've got to take this."

It was Alec. Finally.

TBC…


	11. Chapter 11

Carlos was impressed. Kiera could really knock back. But then, why was that so surprising? She was as tough and as rugged as they came. He thought so for as many times since teaming up with her. She was his equal, and there was no turning back.

Wrapping his head around their having survived the assault freeing Travis still wasn't happening. The harder he thought about it, the more confused he was. Not one bullet had found its mark. Thankfully, but it was so strange. The marksmen were that bad? You'd think that terrorists would have better aim. These people had missed them as moving targets by a mile.

He wasn't complaining, of course. Well, not exactly, but it made him hyper-curious. More now, than when he had first encountered the inexplicable bound up in Kiera.

Carlos couldn't help recalling the offbeat exchange with Travis. His forehead furrowed. Mysterious things he had said, outrageous things. Kiera a time traveler? What did that even mean?

"Tell him, Kiera—tell him. Tell him now!" Travis had badgered, foregleams of a hard fought victory gained in his eyes.

Carlos stopped the intense chatter in his mind. He was going to see this Liber8 fiasco through with her. He drank the last of his whiskey in the tumbler down in one draft. Kiera was drinking Scotch. She looked at him, her face questioned him before she voiced the inquiry.

"Another round?" She had already caught their waiter's eye. He was coming over. The drink she had just finished made it her third.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? Nursing another drink suits me just fine."

"The same?" the lean, clean-cut man, a bartender in training, asked.

Carlos nodded. This bar grill served good stuff. He'd brought Kiera here several times. Tonight, this afterhours treat was on her. He set his thick bottom smoked glass on the server's tray. "Yeah. I'll have the same." He winked at Kiera. "Thanks."

"I'll have what he's having," she said. She didn't often, but this time she did. She returned his wink.

Carlos set her glass on the tray for her. "Bring extra ice." He happily followed that up with, "Thanks." The waiter smirked a lot, but the guy wasn't a jerk. He knew how to deal with jerks. Ignoring them was the best practice.

Their server promised he would as he walked off. His tips had been off lately. He was hoping to make it up on these two.

"So…tell me this," Carlos jumpstarted, the intrigue Travis had begun resurfacing, "What's your son's name?"

Not batting an eye, Kiera favored Carlos with a lopsided grin, and a loosened tongue. Not hesitating she replied, "Sam."

"Good, strong name." His big, brown eyes widened. Inquisitiveness beamed from them. He couldn't remember if she had ever told him much about her son or husband. "Where do they live? Your son, his father?" Carlos folded and refolded his cocktail napkin. He smoothed it out flat, then began the process over again.

She was about to be as forthcoming with that information as she'd been giving Carlos her son's name. But she held off, remembering that they would live here sixty-five years from now, so many years. She hoped that they would. The future they were a part of might no longer exist. She couldn't tell Carlos any of that, too much information. Information absolutely irrelevant, useless to him.

"What if I said I can't tell you?"

"Can't? Or _won't_? Why can't you?" Carlos pressed, not put off, not miffed, just acutely curious. His tone was still light and relaxed. The alcohol in his body had a tranquilizing effect. He hadn't felt this calm in weeks. Words rolled off his tongue. "You can," he purred. "Sure you can."

Purring back, Kiera replied, "And if I did…"

Taking the bait, Carlos said with a chuckle, "You'd have to kill me."

Kiera flicked her tongue over her lower lip. Her smile was like a rainbow emerging from storm clouds. She never had to try being seductive, she just was, like kittens were playful. What was considered innate just was.

Kiera failed to see the humor in that statement, but judging from his amused expression, he thought it was wildly funny. She cautioned, "You think that's funny." There was nothing interrogatory about her delivery.

"Ah, come on. Come on. Lighten up. You know you want to tell me. How far from the future are you?" He heard the fuzziness in his sloppy attempt to get her to come clean. He flashed his pearly whites at her, using their attractive symmetry as a deal sealer.

Kiera kept right on tempting her partner with her beautiful eyes. She was well aware how potent they were for him.

He had no clue how potent his eyes were for her.

The waiter was back with their drinks. He set Kiera's drink down before her, then Carlos' in front of him. She told the server that she wanted to settle the bill now. Carlos demanded to deal with the tip. Kiera said he didn't have to, but he insisted.

Kiera settled the bill and took care of the tip over Carlos' pointed protestations.

Once it was just the two of them again, Carlos apologized. "I'm sorry, Kiera. I'm being a royal pain in yours right now." He stared down, deep down into his drink, effortlessly getting lost in the interminable luminosity of the intoxicating liquid. "Thanks for risking your life to save mine. This makes twice." She had used her body to shield his when the terrorists hit. He had stayed as close to her as she had commanded him to; he was alive as a result.

He owed her and he'd pay her back _anyway_ she wanted.

She wanted to tell him. She wished she could tell him, everything. Though she couldn't, she was easy on him. She told him, "I will, Carlos." She downed her drink in a single, neat gulp. "I'll tell you everything." Kiera set her jaw, which never quivered.

"Really."

Gazing into her partner's somewhat glazed-looking eyes, she sighed and promised, "All in good time."

With a slight edge, he responded, "Time…well, that's the issue. Isn't it?" Carlos arched an eyebrow, swirling the booze around in the glass.

Nodding a little, Kiera acknowledged his tour de force of insight. He was a very insightful soul, which made working with him her good fortune, not an exercise in futility. Carlos was warm, real and never went for her jugular.

After he finished his drink, she asked, "Take me home?"

"You _never _have to ask."

Burrowing into his eyes with hers, she justified, "Just testing." She drank half her drink, not wanting any more.

"Do I pass?"

"Always." Uncustomarily, Kiera went for his hand and asserted as they walked toward the establishment's door hand-in-hand, "With flying colors." She slid her eyes over Carlos in a very possessive way.

He grinned as wide as he could. Their camaraderie was one hundred proof. In the cab, he told her that even as a little boy he wanted to be a cop.

Kiera told him that he was the best she had ever worked with and Carlos rejoined that he was determined to keep it that way.

The blushing Protector from the future gave a full-throated laugh right before Carlos had his arm around her waist, cinching her closer to himself.

"Don't go back to the boat tonight," Carlos innocently told her. She could crash at his place, just crash, no complications. "I'll make breakfast."

Though tempting, Kiera firmly declined. "Another time. Okay?"

Carlos simply said, "Sure." He chanced a look at her face.

Kiera was smiling as she rested her head on his user friendly shoulder. Closing her eyes, she said, "You could still make breakfast. Bring it to headquarters."

Sounding generous, Carlos submitted, "You got it." He took hold of one of her hands, squeezing it lightly and derived pleasure from hearing her sigh although his heart raced a mile a minute.

Kiera's raced right along with his.

TBC…


	12. Chapter 12

Sitting, staring out at the seawall, but not really seeing it, Kiera began twisting the ring on her third finger left hand. She had begun wearing it again. She had stopped wearing it, but the day after Alec's stepfather had been killed, she decided that not wearing it was wrong. She had a husband and a child, a family. She'd be with them again, one day, she desperately hoped.

She breathed in the air strong with the scent of pine and azaleas, liking it here. Visiting this park was a treat. It was her personal retreat, a magnificent green oasis in the midst of this heavily urban landscape of Vancouver.

She was furious with Kellog. Alec was strictly hands-off. The amoral conniver knew that, but didn't see it that way. The nugget of advance knowledge he possessed about the eighteen-year-old hadn't stopped him. The reason why he had chosen to tinker with the youthful genius, the founder of SadTech in their time, was obvious. The self-serving leech thought it was perfectly acceptable to maximize his own selfish advantage, Matthew's infuriating _modus operandi_.

She couldn't allow Kellog to interfere with Alec's future and thereby perhaps change everyone's, her family's included.

Kiera twisted the ring harder. Was the future she had left behind unrecognizable now? Was her family all right, did they even exist?

She ran her fingers through her hair.

It wasn't long before she caught a glimpse of a large blue heron, on the hunt, going in for a dive. The predator disappeared beneath the water's surface. When the bird reappeared, a fish wriggled in its bill. The abundance of wildlife, allowed to live free in this time, astounded her. Sam would like this and all the kids rolling around on wheels. He wasn't old enough to inline skate, but he would have enjoyed watching older kids doing it and skateboarding too. The activities were entertaining. She toyed with the idea of giving inline skating a try herself. Maybe she would. She remembered what had happened to her when she had played that virtual game.

She had risked her mind's preservation. Her suit would keep her body safe, she thought then and smiled. Inline skating was worth trying she reconsidered; she'd exercise caution.

Disturbingly, and all at once, fraying thoughts gyrated in her mind. These last few hours had been hellish. Even coming here wasn't offering her as much solace as it normally did.

The latest bit of news Alec had imparted confirmed her worst fears. It wreaked havoc with her precarious sense of flimsy well-being. Another time traveler was among them. Had the person come through along with her and the condemned terrorists? Why hadn't the person made his or her presence known before this?

That made the Liber8 conspiracy cohorts, herself…_Jason_…and this new traveler a part of this timeframe. Kiera balked, still not willing to fully accept that the erratic 'eccentric' was truly from the future. Jason's wild talk really rattled her sometimes. Yet, Alec's revelation about another 'migratory visitor' being online lent credence to Jason's claims. Others, such as they were, from the future, had invaded this present population. It was a mind-tingling thought.

One she wished she could dismiss. She'd be a fool if she did.

Who was this individual, friend or foe? Another lost, displaced newcomer with an agenda, intent on altering the future by any means possible to suit whatever ends he or she wanted?

With a sigh, Kiera inclined her head toward the half-heard conversation, its content arresting her attention.

"You love being mysterious."

Kiera snuck a peak at the one who had said that. He had pale, soft-looking skin and hair as dark as midnight. His eyes were an intriguing shade of cobalt blue. He carried a skateboard, was wearing the type of shoes for the activity. He wasn't exactly laughing, but he wasn't chiding either.

The girl he was with replied, "I love being with you." She seized his broad hand with hers, which looked doll-like, visibly more fragile. She brought his hand to her mouth to kiss the back of it. "But I don't want you permanently maiming or killing yourself to prove that you are king skater boy of Stanley Park." The longhaired girl with dark eyes and bone straight hair to match, refused to surrender his hand when he tried taking it back.

"I know what I'm doing," skater boy insisted. He'd been looping, kick-flipping, doing one foot ollies and overcrooking since practically he could walk.

His concerned companion rebutted, "So do I." Not missing a beat, the girl, a shave shorter than the boy, began walking off with her confident friend in tow. "You can show me your new trick tomorrow," Kiera heard her say. "Right now," she continued, her big brown eyes flashing, growing bigger, her tone dripping resolve, "we're going to enjoy this beautiful scenery, and it won't cost you your life or limb. Or me losing my mind watching you do your insane stunts. End of discussion."

"They're _not_ insane," fearless skater boy asserted. He shrugged off her glare.

"What kind of ice cream do you want?" the girl patiently asked, adept at sidetracking.

Parrying her unruffled facial expression, skater boy thought for a moment, then said, "Chocolate and strawberry. More chocolate than strawberry."

Eager to please, the girl pulled him over to the concession, asked the seller for what her _crazy nut_ wanted, told the guy what she wanted and they walked off licking and smiling as they worked on their cones. They were out of earshot, but looked easygoing. The tiff diffused, settled with ice cream.

Kiera sighed, remembering her son's favorite flavor…just like skater boy's…chocolate. Sam would wear his creamy moustache proudly. About to close her eyes, she was interrupted by her mobile phone. The rays of the waning sunshine dappled the forest wherein shadows lengthened.

"Carlos…"

She listened, and when he asked, she told him, "At Stanley. What am I doing? Nothing in particular. Watching some ducks…herons…kids hanging out, being kids. Watching ice cream melt." Did she want some?

Pausing to listen, Kiera with a sigh next responded, "I know. I just needed to not do anything for a little while. If I do sound like that it's because I'm…I'm…" The words _overwhelmed, frustrated_ popped into her mind, but she refrained from saying them. "I needed some—"

Carlos verbally supplied what she needed, hinted that he had an idea involving something they'd never done before. His suggestion, which he wasn't saying what it was, not just yet, would be something new for Kiera and him to do together. At least, he figured it would be. He told her not to leave the park, said he was going to meet her. He knew the spot, she'd showed him.

"No, Carlos. I'm fine. You don't have to, really."

He wasn't taking no for an answer. He made her promise she would stay put.

"Okay, okay," she committed albeit half-heartedly, wishing Carlos wasn't so gallingly persuasive, coupled with her feeling so down in the dumps as she did. No sooner had he hung up, Alec was whispering to her in her mind. Kiera wanted to know where he was, but he wasn't saying. She told him that if he was thinking of going to Kellog, he had better think again.

Alec wouldn't tell her where he was, nor what he was doing, was only saying that he'd be in touch as soon as he had more data on the shadowy new enigmatic 'player' in the field. Kiera persisted, but her usually informative techie declined saying anything more about his plans for the rest of the evening. He wished her a good-night and expeditiously signed off.

"Don't do this to me, Alec. Not after you promised you wouldn't…"

About fifteen minutes later, Carlos showed up, told her to get into the car. He was the embodiment of hi jinks and secrecy. She dragged her feet and thought, _Great_, and huffed, giving him objectionable looks. Just exactly what she needed—**not**—more clandestine behavior.

They rode in silence, which wasn't companionable, nor easy to navigate, until Kiera broke the uncommunicativeness. "Where are we going?"

"And spoil the surprise?" Carlos cajoled, pulling into the street where one of his ideas of a good time awaited.

"I don't like surprises," she flatly spewed. That was a bit of an exaggeration; her son's playful antics were the exception. Additionally, she was known to shed tears whenever Greg Cameron bought her flowers, roses her favorites, unexpectedly.

"So I've noticed. But, I think you'll like this one." Well, at least he hoped she would. Considering her glum mood and outright disavowals that nothing of a more personal nature was wrong, it was worth a try.

Anything was better than this blue funk of hers that had been going on for weeks. Granted, Agent Gardiner breathing down a person's neck, especially Kiera's, would make anyone go over the edge. Inspector Dillon wasn't helping either with his snide remarks and growing impatience with the lack of progressive connecting the Liber8 dots. His increasing crankiness and tirades blanketed the entire department, setting the stage for low morale.

Carlos parked the car, got out. Kiera did the same, not saying anything again. Carlos jerked two fingers at her, then crossed the street. Kiera followed. Looking up at the 16-plex's marquee, he pointed and said, "See that yet?"

"See what?" Kiera replied, indulging him. She canted her head. "A movie?" As of this date, she hadn't pandered to incidental whims. She had more crucial wasn't interested in the outmoded form of entertainment, no piquing of any interest whatsoever on her part had occurred.

"Not just any movie. _World War Z_." He wanted to make this his fourth time. His eclectic fascination with zombies hadn't been exactly love at first sight, it had grown over time, but it was close. His favorite TV show was, a no-brainer here…_The Walking Dead_. "_Surprise_! My treat."

"Think I'll call it a night, Carlos. Thanks for the ride back into town. We'll catch up at headquarters, tomorrow." She raised her index and middle fingers, aimed them at him, mouthed 'pow' and mock-fired.

"No, no. Come on. I think you'll get a kick out of this flick." Those wicked eyes of his had her submitting. His wide grin worked its magic.

She bit. After rolling her eyes, Kiera didn't have the heart to shove what he thought she'd like back into his face and up his nose.

"_Please_…"

A nod of resignation had her inside sitting beside him, a huge tub of buttery popcorn between them balanced on each of their legs. She dug her hand into the tub, brought the popped kernels to her salt-tinged lips and mindlessly munched away. As Kiera got more and more caught up in the pseudo-excitement of cringing, outnumbered humans fighting a losing battle against the so-called 'undead,' Carlos leaned into Kiera's ear and sub-audibly whispered, "Well? What did I tell ya?"

Kiera cracked a wide grin in the flickering darkness. Her heart beat faster, not entirely on account of the star's character, Gerry, running the zombie gauntlet to emerge unscathed.

"Stop talking," she answered in kind, "you're spoiling it for me."

Carlos' deep chuckling tickled her ear as it resonated within it.

She gave him the movie; it was the least she could do. She had almost gotten him killed in that shootout with Sonya Valentine and her accomplices. Kiera figured she owned him.

TBC…


	13. Chapter 13

Elena had died. That jagged edge of reality blurred in Kiera's mind. Fraught with feelings of failure, she shuddered against her new partner. Carlos clutched her, anchoring her body with his. Her old partner had been here since 1975. Here it was, thirty-seven, going on thirty-eight years later. Fresh memories sprang to mind. The family Elena had allowed herself to have here would bury her.

Kiera buried her face deeper into Carlos' shoulder, the one she clung to as though it were a life preserver. She was wobbly; he wasn't. With his eyes closed, he continued lending succor. The feel of her silky hair against the palm of his hand as he stroked her, transported him to a simpler, less demanding time. The woman he had once loved loomed before him. She was telling him that she had been wrong. What he thought they'd had hadn't been real. She had made it clear that she must leave him behind. She needed to pursue her dreams, ambitions that didn't include him. Carlos just would never understand, she had insisted.

Those memories used to torment him until he'd put a stop to them. He'd had to for the sake of his sanity.

Her leaving him, 'cutting him loose,' as his ex-_amante_ had put it, had been like curare, poisoning him. How and why the relationship had ended had embittered him, had soured his outlook on many things. Carlos had sworn that he would never be quite so trusting and gullible again. He would never allow himself to care. Caring, only to be shunted aside? He would never let that happen to himself. No, he vowed, never again. He was too smart.

He had no trouble attracting women. Even a casual glance brought them to him like a moth to a flame. He was no stranger to tawdry one-night stands. He had been a one-woman man until he'd been kicked in the teeth by a user. He never looked for meaning in meaningless hookups. True love was a myth. A heart wounded toughened over time. Carlos' had, he made no apologies. He wasn't the same man who had fallen so deeply, so passionately in love what felt a ridiculously long time ago.

This sobbing woman he was comforting, soothing her with soft, warm words, had begun changing him in subtle ways. From that first day when Kiera had bulled her way into his life, the delicate reversal had begun. What once had been stale and the everyday was now original and exceptional, a far cry from dull. Kiera was no fake, Carlos thought, as she sniffled gently. He couldn't stop thinking, scores of contradictory things, as Kiera, taking refuge in his arms, relived hosts of life and death situations with Elena. The recollections were vivid and sharp.

Her whimpers grew fainter, the heft of her body shifted against Carlos. She tried unmooring herself from him, but his big, strong arms around her felt like a second skin. The solace they lent was intoxicating. Effortlessly, she sank deeper into them. Deeper and deeper, she descended, thoroughly immersing herself, losing herself in the preservation her partner gave her.

She was drifting in limbo. All the negative events, which plagued her, blotted out by this one man's concern for her.

"It's going to be all right," Carlos kept repeating, as though applying balm to a pestilent rash.

Kiera clung to Carlos' safe solidity even harder. Words, not sounding a thing like them, muffled by the jacket sheathing his broad shoulder, wormed their way from her. "I…I…" Blanching, she faltered through a ragged breath. "M-might not have a family." She held Carlos tighter. "Not anymore." Kiera sounded stung, as if a nest of maddened bees had attacked her, she having the anaphylactic reaction.

Softly, though at a loss for anything placative to say Carlos asked, "What do you mean, Kiera? Once these prime terrorists have been defeated, along with whatever other groups they've spawned, you'll get back to your family." He almost said she would be able to move on, resume living a normal life. He wasn't so sure saying that was appropriate. Who was he to say? Since she worked for Section 6, it was safe to assume that once this assignment was through, the elite task force would assign her to something equally, if not more dangerous, than this current covert operation.

He didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to lose her.

Again, he heard her crying softly and he couldn't help it when he sighed into her. The hand stroking her hair cupped the back of her velvety shivering head. "It's going to be all right. It will. It will." But he couldn't promise. What he did know was that he would be just what she had said moments before they had entered Elena's room, seeing the empty bed. He was her partner and he had her back, for as long as she needed him to be there for her.

Kiera stopped crying, staying right where she was. After a few more moments passed, she was more composed, and able to say, "Thank you, Carlos." She was thankful for the multitudinous things he gave her, unstintingly, he never aware for one moment that he gave her so much.

Not easing away from her, Carlos inquired, "You say you see Sam every day. When was the last time he saw you?" He pushed the thought of her seeing the man responsible for Sam's birth back, way down into memory. "Are you allowed to see him?" From the way she had spoken about Greg Cameron, Carlos had gotten the impression that the two had grown apart before this imposed separation. "Has your son been kidnapped? Did your husband take him?"

Kiera went limp. Feeling the give in her body, Carlos gripped her more firmly, and waited for her to answer him. She struggled, knowing full well that she could not. "No, no. Nothing like that." Kiera's voice sounded strangled as her arm held Carlos more snugly. "Sam's fine." She prayed that was so.

Carlos knew when to refrain from pushing her too far. The weather had been great for the past few days, unbelievably beautiful days for this part of the world. He had time owed him and hadn't taken a day off in months. Kiera took off whenever she wanted and no one blinked an eye. Well, everyone except Gardiner. Carlos pushed that pest out of his thoughts. "I've got an idea." He was aware just how hard it was to stop hugging her. He held her for as long as she let him. "What do you say we drop off the radar for, uh, say…the next several hours, or so." A conspiratorial gleam was shining brightly in his dark eyes.

Grateful for his dropping the sorest subject in her life right now, Kiera responded, "What do you mean?"

"A friend of mine has a cabin up in the mountains, not far from Kewlona, at Missezula Lake. He doesn't use it this time of year. Lots to do…boating, hiking, exploring, a private lake, or just plain old relaxing, if you like that sort of thing."

"What do you have in mind, Detective Fonnegra?"

"Well, I'd like to say I'd be kidnapping you, but that sounds too criminal for a hardnosed cop like me to say."

His plan was music to her ears, Kiera thought. At least for a little while, she wanted to put distance between herself and all these worries. Unlike the last time she ditched the city, and him, her selfless partner, this time, Carlos was going to be the one taking her away from all _this_ madness, at least for a little while, so she could regroup and come back stronger than ever. She'd let Alec know where she was, but not Kellog. She didn't want to think about the self-serving interferer. She wished that she'd never had the misfortune of knowing him.

Kiera vowed she wouldn't make the same mistake with Carlos as she had with the man who loved to flaunt his yacht and the fact that he'd had her.

"I'll go willingly, Carlos."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Kiera eased away from him, but not that far. "When do we leave?"

"Does right now sound too soon?"

"Right now sounds perfect," Kiera graciously awarded.

"I'll swing by your place first, so you can pack what you need." Enthusiasm flowed from him. "I'll throw some stuff together and then we're on the move." His grin was infectious; Kiera marveled at her rapid change of mood. Just moments before it had appeared as if she would never stop crying. But, the time for tears had passed. She was going to spend quality time with a man, who knew what it meant to be a real one.

In less than an hour they were on the road, bound for the promised land. Out the corner of her eye, Kiera watched Carlos drive. He offered to do the honors first. It made wonderful sense since he was far more familiar with the locale than she was. As Kiera quietly observed him, Alec murmured to her.

"The two lovebirds going off together at last," he jested. He was having a field day with the deactivated suit the CPS operative had left in his care. "I do hope safe sex is something you practice, Kiera."

Carping silently to herself, Kiera donned her mobile phone. Making believe she was talking to the caller who supposedly had just made her phone vibrate, she nit-picked, "Self-control is the best defense…"

"Have fun," Alec wished her.

"Oh, I intend to. Believe it or not, I do know how. Bye, for now. See you when I get back." She had thought to bring along the book Elena had left for her.

"When you get back, there's someone I want you to meet."

"Bet I know who," Kiera flourished.

"Emily…"

"_Who_," she said with conviction. "You forget I already did, well, sort of. When she was checking you out."

"Bye, Kiera."

"See ya." The soft-spoken kid had really grown on her. It was hard thinking of him as a manipulative old man in her time.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, biding his time. He had patiently waited to ask who it was once Kiera ended the call. "Anyone I know?"

_Maybe one day_, she thought. Pleasantly, she replied, "One of my sources. The most reliable one."

"You'll have to introduce me one of these days."

As he pulled into the passing lane to get by a pickup truck that was doing less than fifty m.p.h., jostling, Kiera quipped with a twinkle in her smiling eyes, "There're a lot of things I have to introduce you to." The question was, would she?

"Oh yeah?" Carlos arched, breathing in a generous dose of unadulterated mountain air. "You're going to trust me with your deep, dark secrets?"

"It's either you, or Agent Gardiner. Between you and him, you have kinder eyes. And he gives pushiness new meaning."

Drinking in Kiera's mischievous deportment, Carlos fired back, "Present lovely company lends itself to greater frankness, easily."

They got very quiet after that, more or less staying that way, until Carlos filled the car with music from the radio. Classical music, he was a buff. An hour and a half later, he turned into the cabin's driveway and pulled up alongside the rustic wrap-around, porch lofted log cabin made of spruce. The setting lived up to what she had pictured it being in her mind's eye, perfect, gloriously woodsy. The trees canopied about the cabin were tall, majestic pines. The floor of the porch bore some of their needles, but on the whole, the place was as neat as a pin.

Carlos set the bags he carried down and opened the cabin door. He held it open for her. "Let me know if it's bear-free."

"You first," Kiera taunted.

The bundles made it inside before they did. Carlos used the front of his foot. He caught the visitor from the future off guard, thoroughly off guard. Carlos swept Kiera off her feet and into his arms. Laughing uproariously, he said, "How about together?"

"Partner." Kiera nodded, with her arms gracefully looped about his neck.

Definitively, he responded, "Partner…"

Carlos gave her a brief tour. The cabin was deceptively bucolic; the interior had a more modern flair. The log house had a light, airy kitchen, a spacious living room, complete with a leather rust sofa and matching Truffle chairs, four bedrooms and three baths. Each bath had a hot tub. The owner had spared no expense. Carlos' friend loved to entertain, regardless of whether he was physically on hand, or not.

Kiera chose where she would sleep, in one of the rooms across from where Carlos had chosen to bed down. If the doors remained open, they could talk with each other before falling asleep.

At about six o'clock that evening, he made dinner and they sat before the fire in the fireplace, which he had lit, eating. Over the steak fajitas and chimichurri along with stuffed red and green peppers they were having, Carlos asked, "What would you like to do tomorrow?"

"Anything that doesn't involve dodging bullets." Or, agonizing over what the future held.

Chuckling, filling her glass with a spot more wine, not having to be told, Carlos rejoined, "Oh…I think I can arrange that." He sipped from his fluted absinthe glass. "Have you jet skied?"

She had never heard of it, let alone tried it. The wine sparkled, but not half as much as Carlos' eyes were glimmering. "No."

"Good. You're gonna love it."

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you, everyone, so much for sticking with this story. Some chapters come together better and quicker than others. Sorry for the delay with this one. I treasure every review I receive. Thanks one and all so much.

* * *

_Sam_…

Her stressor voice streamed in her head as she cradled the toy soldier in her hand. Remorse, mixed with resolve, clawed its own tunnel through her brain. There couldn't be another emotional meltdown. Not if she didn't want the CMR triggering Mr. Fairweather, the internal psych program that had been forced to the fore. She had been judged as unfit for duty. Kiera had come to terms with her feelings. She might never see her beloved Sam again. Getting back to 2077 could be a long shot. It was a bitter pill she had to swallow.

_I love you_...

She couldn't risk losing the tech abilities inherent in the CMR. The embedded diagnostic, the cognitive therapist onboard, or, as Alec had christened him, 'Dr. Feel-weird,' served its purpose. She was here in 2013. She didn't have the luxury of believing it was only temporary, not anymore. She had to remain in control for her sanity's sake and not endanger her new allies who fought alongside her to bring down Liber8.

Although, driving the tormenting pest Gardiner up into the wall had felt thoroughly satisfying. That man, bent on bringing her down, had better watch his step, Kiera thought menacingly. Could it have been that his eagerness to catch her in something incriminating was a smoke screen? What if he were the mole, the inside agent who was on Liber8's side? The longer she remained in this time period, the more it was true. Anything was possible.

Sighing, Kiera tucked the toy soldier into her desk's top drawer. In the future, whenever her eyes fell upon the game piece, it would remind her of two things. Her little boy, first of all, whom it was impossible to forget. Secondly, it was optimal that she keep her volatile feelings at bay. Mr. Fairweather was pleasant enough, but that bit of coding the CMR governed could erase her memories if she failed, and put her offline permanently.

_Keep your head in this reality_, she told herself, _not in the one that you left behind and might never exist_…

As she closed the drawer, Kiera whispered, "That's not going to happen. I can't lose my memories of Sam, of everything. I refuse to. I'll win over this. I can do this."

"Do what? Cameron?"

Kiera frowned, startled, but not nonplussed. Inspector Nora Harris, Dillon's obnoxious replacement, had imposed. The thankless woman's eyes were trained on her as she came up from behind. Harris stood in front of Kiera's desk with her arms folded across her chest. She bore down on Kiera, her sight analytical.

"Excuse me?" Kiera asked, framing the question with a smile, which mocked the smirk that had sneaked up on her. She thought she was alone after Carlos and Betty had gone. Apparently Harris had remained behind.

Cooly, the antagonist repeated her question.

Just as facilely, Kiera replied, "Analyzing LiberEight's next stragegy."

Harris noted that her computer terminal was off, its screen as dark as the night sky beyond these four walls. Kiera's monotonal answer didn't satisfy her. "What are you really doing here, Cameron?"

If ever there was a loaded question that was it.

"Is there a problem?"

"Are you causing more?" Harris' tone was as snippy as it could be.

Kiera couldn't resist the tug-of-war that raged in her mind. _By absolute accident, through no wish of my own…I don't belong here…I belong with my family, but since I find myself here, I'm doing my best to eliminate those who mean to do innocent people here, and in the future, harm_…

Calmly, she responded, "Being as cooperative as I can, ma'am."

Kiera saw Harris visibly rankle. Kiera unfurled another unhurried smile. She took her time about letting her eyes meet her persistent inquisitor's. Huffily, Harris snapped, "Though your file has shed a bit more light on your history, Cameron, don't think for one moment that you're completely off the hook. You're not. Mark my words."

Kiera's simpatico smile, remarkably akin to Da Vinci's Mona Lisa's, graced her beautiful face. _How much do you want to bet_, flashed in her mind. Poise infused her words. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll keep that in mind." Not sure if Harris was sticking around, Kiera thought it best to leave or else endure more of the interim inspector's prying questions. "Night," was all she said as she stood up from her desk and headed off.

"I'll be watching you," Harris called after her. There was something indefinable about Kiera that the seasoned policewoman did not like. The exchange that they'd had in the Ladies' Room had given her the impression that this woman was mysterious. To trust her completely wasn't wise. There was more going on beneath her surface than met the eye. "Closely."

By way of acknowledgment, Kiera spun around and gave her a hokey salute. The eye roll that went with it was textbook. Careful, because it wasn't necessary that Harris hear the blatant disrespect that accompanied her gestures, she whispered inaudibly, "I've been served notice. Catch me if you can…"

Harris returned to her office, her mind set flinty.

Before leaving police headquarters, Kiera squared her shoulders. Hope for a restful night had her planning for relaxation. Some of the tea, which Carlos liked making for her, remained in the cupboard of the apartment she hadn't used for several months now. Tonight she decided that going to Kellog's boat was a bad idea, once again. The less she saw of the man, the plotter, the better.

Her thoughts pooled and she thought back to the nice time she'd spent at the cabin with her partner, the man of many dispositions and versatile temperaments. He'd been correct about her liking jet skiing. It had been a blast. She had gotten to know Carlos better and she had to admit, she felt closer to him, a solidifying bond of greater trust had been forged.

Peering through the rectangular glass plate in the door, which led to the parking lot, Kiera noted that her car was the next to the last one in the lot. So, Harris drove a Ford _Focus_, that figured. Kiera liked its icy, nearly transparent color, a silvery model.

Outside, the night air, stirred by a predominating warm breeze, awaited. Still, she hesitated before pushing the door fully open. How difficult it was to pretend that living a lie came naturally. If she could only stop pretending, but that would never be possible. Heaving a sigh, she pushed against the door, getting it to open slightly. Then, surprised by whom she saw, Kiera held off opening the door wider. She edged back inside, shielded by the door, and continued to observe through the pane of glass.

A lone figure stood in the lot. Kiera recognized who it was by her build. The wind gently tousled the woman's long hair. Strange, Betty Robertson hadn't gone anywhere. Why was she here, all by herself? Kiera couldn't tear her eyes away from the cyber specialist. Kiera got the feeling that she was waiting around here in this lot.

Why did she wait? Whom did she wait for? Possibly a boyfriend Betty was keeping under wraps? The crush she had on Carlos might have been wearing thin, Kiera speculated. He largely ignored the attention she showered on him, as abundant as it was. Unrequited love wrung one's wits.

In short order, Kiera had her answer. A white van, tooling along, flowed into the lot. Aided by enhanced vision, Kiera quickly saw who was driving. Lucas Ingram, a brainy Liber8 subversive, slowed down and came to a stop. Betty smiled at the former weapons developer for SadTech upon opening the vehicle door.

The two exchanged words that floored Kiera, boggling her mind. She watched her friend and colleague plug herself into the van beside Ingram. What was Betty doing?

Recovering from shock, Kiera had to find out. Purposely, she gave them a good head start and then commenced tracking them through the dart she had fired, now lodged in the van's rear bumper. Stealthily, the CPS operative followed.

TBC…


	15. Chapter 15

Yes…it was a difficult thing for Kiera, confessing who she really was, where she'd come from. The only thing she was guilty of was being in the wrong place at the wrong time when the unthinkable had happened. But with her secret shared, the weight of bearing it alone became infinitely more endurable. To feel more comfortable in one's own skin was like finding gold. Not fool's gold, the genuine article. There was greater freedom being with Carlos now. Her having confessed that the world she had come from was 66 years into the future had made it possible.

Relief washed over her like a river of healing, renewal. Genuineness was refreshing. Candor was sweet. Honesty had replaced furtiveness, the conscience-weakening constant of having to lie when all she wanted to do was help him, achieve the same goals. She could open up, holding nothing back, the way she had wished it could have been from the start.

For Carlos, who had been well on his way to smashing the bond they had forged, the level of trust inevitably deepened. He had apologized profusely, wishing that all the rotten things he had ever said, all those times he had had to, out of necessity, question her loyalty, browbeat her for deflection, had never left his mouth. He accepted the bulk of what she'd told him. Wrapping his head around the whole ball of wax would take time. It was like telling a close friend the friendship had run out of gas. You, the person they thought they knew, trusted with their life, was a fraud.

Of course, Kiera wasn't a fraud, but she was a novelty. How many people could say they worked with someone who had come from the future? To hear Kiera tell it, a future that might be jeopardized due to what she was doing in this…continuum.

Mind boggling didn't come close.

They were sitting in Carlos' apartment, about a week after the incident at Mike Venable's house, the turning point in their relationship, a new beginning. It wasn't that late, but it wasn't early either. Flashbacks of what had almost happened in that dark, creepy basement plagued Kiera from time to time. Mercifully, those images were fading, but not quickly, nor thoroughly enough. She strove so hard to forget what Mike had been about to do to her, how she had pleaded with him to kill her, but erasing that kind of psychic trauma wasn't easy. Though she had been born in the lap of advanced technology, she was still one hundred percent human, with all the frailties and foibles that went with the condition.

Like a bad dream one hopes to never have again, imagery from the madness was robbing her of sleep. The funny thing was, of late, coming here to this man's home did a world of good. Increasingly, it was here where she found a large measure of security.

Carlos understood, better able to interpret her nuances, since she had entrusted him with this knowledge of her true origin. He knew better where she was coming from, literally and figuratively.

He had never been much of a tea drinker, but Kiera had gotten him started.

"You look tired," Carlos said, sounding patient, his eyes intently fixed upon her. He sat beside her on his couch, quietly drinking in her reticence. She wasn't all that talkative tonight. He was just thankful that she had chosen his doorstep to, not darken, _never_ darken, brighten. When had he ever had that much fun at the cabin? Not even with Craig, who owned the place, had he had such a great time. Being there with Kiera had put a whole other slant on getting away to the woods. And they had had plenty, of fun, in the squeakiest-clean sense of the word; it had been very good.

Again, the suggestion that they get away together had him wanting to ask her to go with him again. This time maybe they could stay for a week, not just a weekend, crime-solving permitting.

"Yeah," Kiera acknowledged, wishing a decent night's sleep wasn't so hard to come by. She released a breath, cocked her head to one side and listened to the soft music playing in the background. She inhaled softly, losing herself in the serenity of the classical brilliance. Carlos' taste in music had a domino effect. He had asked her once what she liked and she, on that occasion, had told him that he would have to introduce her to his preference, which had turned out to be varied. Currently, Beethoven's Concerto No. 3 in C Minor was soothing her.

He was also a big fan of the rhythms of his heritage.

With eyebrows rising, Carlos hesitated, wondering if he should put it out there. Was it his place to even ask? If he wanted better piece of mind, he knew that he had to. "Where are you crashing these days?" His fingers brushed against her teacup and he frowned. It was cold, which meant the liquid it held was too. She hadn't touched what he'd made, especially for her, in some time. Normally, dragon fruit plum devotion herbal tea did the trick, had her purring like a kitten after a tough day.

Well, uh, maybe _purring_ was a lavish exaggeration. Though, the brew had been known to work wonders with her challenging moods in the past. And, yes, his too.

Times spent fraternizing weren't excuses for breaking open the hard stuff each and every time. Other liquid refreshment, less taxing on the liver, which took the edge off the way booze could, wasn't anathema.

"Are you all right?" He got the feeling that she wasn't going to tell him where she resided these days. The month-to-month lease on her old place had expired months ago.

He stood, took up her cup, his gaze never leaving her face. On his way to the kitchen, with his eyes looking over his shoulder, he anticipated her answer. He hoped to see her lovely smile at least once tonight. It would make his. "I'm going to warm this up for you." He lowered the cup he'd half-raised and gently waved it to-and-fro.

Nodding, Kiera smiled, a weak imitation of what Carlos had his heart set on. "Thanks."

"So, where?"

"Around..." was her blunt answer.

From the kitchen, his deep voice wafted to her. For a crazy, fleeting moment, Kiera would have enjoyed having him hum her a lullaby. He had a beautiful voice, alive, passionate, full of righteous indignation when it looked as though criminals were besting Vancouver's finest, but gentle when he knew she needed to hear it that way.

When was the last time anyone had lulled her, barring their having an ulterior motive? She thought of Kellog and her feeling of well-being eluded her. She tried getting some semblance of serenity back. She knew how much Carlos wanted that for her. She had made herself a solemn promise. She was not going to use Kellog's boat as a place to stay. It left a bad taste in her soul.

As Carlos poured her cold tea back into the pot, he rued how angry he'd been with her when, having judged her to be an unforgivable liar, she'd been unworthy of his faith and loyalty. Could he ever live his recent failure down? He hoped so for both their sakes.

She heard the programmed tick-tick-tick of his stove before the burner he was turning on ignited. Appliances in this time were so crude. She recalled telling Mr. Fairweather that, "They dry their hands with these," having dangled a paper towel under his holographic nose. Another smile Carlos missed out on graced Kiera's face as her introspection played itself out.

Since her revelation, Carlos was regularly trying to put himself in her shoes, juggling what she'd come from with what she was dealing with now. His heart swelled; she really was some kind of superwoman, a woman his feelings for were starting to show. He made no apologies, wouldn't have known where to start.

He hadn't decided if that was a good or bad thing. He did know that whatever she needed from him, she would get, no strings attached.

Her little boy, Sam, her wedded mate, Greg…Carlos thought hard about her loved ones, going on without her. They lived in her heart. Did he? She was another man's wife; they had a son together. His thoughts collided with his emotions. Could he be as strong as she if he had left a child and wife behind? He didn't envy Kiera, no way could he do that. He tried resisting the inclination, knowing that she didn't want his pity, not a drop of it. Would she accept his love, if he offered it? The urge to go out there and comfort this brave woman overwhelmed him, her being so strong, so single-minded in will and purpose. His mind swam for as many times.

The teapot whistled, tugging him back to the intimacy of this paradoxical setting.

The affecting music touched a place deep inside herself and Kiera shuddered, a far cry from involuntarily. Longing for the impossible, a place to really belong, she stifled a cry.

"Y'know…I've, uh, been meaning to ask you…"

"What?" The interrogative hung in the air. Restlessly, Kiera shifted on the couch, resting her head back against the backrest. Interestingly, time felt draggy, so unlike its linear self. Her heavy lids forced her to close her eyes. What little she had drunk of the tea was doing its work. The pungent, full-bodied blend was a delight for the senses of smell and taste. Such indulgent deliciousness wasn't lost on her. Relaxation was nipping at her resolve to stay tense and beginning to win.

He didn't say anything for several protracting minutes, just listening to the strains of this particular passage. The violins in the throes of arpeggio tugged at his heartstrings.

"Carlos? Are you still there?"

She sounded dreamy-sleepy, he thought, grinning. All she had to do was ask and he'd be giving up his bed this night, or any night she asked.

"Very much so. I was double checking to see about that lemon I wish I had for your tea." His dogged search proved fruitless, yet again. He'd run out of lemons two days ago. Food shopping had been sacrificed for the sake of bringing serial killers to justice.

His preoccupation with trying to please her coaxed that smile he wanted to see, and was missing at the moment, yet again. Perhaps he'd get another chance before the night ended.

"So...what do you want to know?"

"Why does your firearm work only for you? And not for...someone else, say like me for instance?"

He set her cup of piping hot tea in place before her. She noticed the mini croissants he'd hunted up, creamy chocolatey ones. _Yummy_, Kiera thought.

"Would you like to fire my weapon?" she teased. He got that smile, treasuring it.

_Such a beautiful, beautiful woman_, seeped into every crevice of his mind. _I'll pity her in here, where she'll never know, because I can if I want to_. And I so want to. Such a_ special woman_. _Why couldn't she be a woman of these times_, he lamented, inwardly pouting. _And we met, and fell in love and_...

He stopped torturing himself with the tyranny of what ifs.

"I wouldn't mind. Think I could?" Carlos asked, sounding too close in age to a young boy having a grand time alone in a store's toy department in the section where lads young and older lost themselves in action adventure of every description.

"Perhaps with some small amount of re-programming, I don't see why not," she temptingly appeased, seeing the glow in Carlos' eyes eclipse the promise in her voice. She knew her technologies' brilliant creator in his formative stage. She could ask what he might possibly come up with to grant her partner's request.

"What the department could do with a tidy stockpile of your futuristic babies." At least she had let him hold the superior weapon, letting him try it on for size, euphemistically speaking, in the basement of horrors that ugly night. Since that night, she had tipped him off to her entire ensemble of advanced technological marvels.

Kiera looked at Carlos funny, as though meeting him for the first time, well enough aware of what he was thinking.

Hearing the weirdness of how his phrasing had sounded, he amended, "I didn't mean…_your babies_. As in, well baby, babies. Not uh, like—"

"I know what you meant," Kiera said, pleased to bail him out. Amusement sparkled in her smoldering blue eyes, the most expressive eyes he'd ever known.

"So you'd let me use your shooter in a tactical situation? That is, if the need ever arose where I'd maybe have to?" Little boy enthusiasm was at work in his voice again.

"Maybe that isn't as much of an impossibility as you think." She took up her cup and drank more liquid comfort down. She tore a bit off the croissant, making no effort to hide her frown, but it disappeared as quickly as it had formed. "You see…I know someone…"

A someone she had kept mum about until now, which was as good a time as any to bring Carlos further up to speed. She hadn't told him about Alec, the young whiz, her irreplaceable ally, the father of the man, destined to become the 21st century's foremost technologic force of nature.

Now she would…

Kiera sighed, submerging herself deeper into the tranquility of this intimate atmosphere. She, who had no home, but she did have this.

"Carlos..."

"Yes, Kiera?"

"Remember the events at the Randall Farm?"

He nodded. "How could I forget? Watching myself bleed out in that musty storeroom?"

"There was a young man there..."

"Julian Randall."

"No. The other young man."

"Who's that?" He frowned, tapping his memory. "Wait...there was another-"

"Alec Sadler, Roland Randall's stepson."

Carlos set his mug filled with more tea down. His tea was lukewarm, but he didn't mind. "Yeah. I came across his name in the report. What about him?"

She took a deep breath and haltingly divulged, "He is, rather, he _will be_ the inventor of my various devices and my CMR."

"Okay..."

"And...he's my source for everything informational. The soft voice in my head, my secret ally. Without Alec, I would have been adrift in your world. Found out, and most likely imprisoned now, the way I almost was as you might remember, when he couldn't access my CMR."

"I remember the weirdness you went through." He hung his head, remorseful. "When I stupidly accused you of being some wild kind of traitor."

"When I kept you in the dark."

Carlos nodded, and ate up Kiera's half-smile.

She used her invoking eyes on Carlos, trusting in him to suspend disbelief further. "He's only in his teens."

"Boy genius."

Kiera raised the lip of her teacup to her lips. Sipping slowly and reveling in the tea's flavor, which was such a hit with her, she appreciatively swallowed. "That's putting it mildly..."

Carlos reached over to stroke her cheek. "Will I meet him?"

"How does tomorrow sound?"

"Like we should get some sleep if we hope to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

"Can I stay...here?"

"I thought you'd never ask." _More ground gained_, Carlos irresistibly couldn't help thinking. _The way she's opening up to me like a flower._

Gently, Kiera said, "I'm asking."

"You're staying." Carlos shifted closer to her, his smile, alluring, for her to savor along with the tea.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

"Smells delicious…" reached him from his living room. "How much longer the wait?" The owner of the feminine voice glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen, able to see her host navigating his cookery like a pro, the master chef he could have been if it hadn't been for the siren call of law enforcement enticing him to join its ranks.

"Hungry?"

"What's giving it away?" his guest ribbed. She deliberately smacked her lips, loudly and repeatedly. When she stopped, she laughed loudly too.

Carlos stuck his head through the space beneath one of the versatile counters. "The snarl in your voice," he teased back.

She growled back and laughed again. Betty, the precinct's tech whiz beamed. This was one of her treasured dreams come true, being alone with her favorite detective, he cooking for her. This was rich. She had pinched herself already, several times since arriving here.

She did it again just to make sure this was no dream.

Adjusting the heat beneath the promised 'delight for the taste buds,' Carlos, still wearing what he'd worn to the office, chuckled. He downplayed his achievement even though whenever he served his small rolled-up tortillas he received glowing assessments of how great they were. Tonight the taste-treats were filled with ground beef, two diced red peppers, as well as a large grated white potato, one large diced Bermuda onion, mixed with vegetable oil and seasoned with garlic salt. He had added pinches of cilantro also.

Additional minutes passed until finally he removed them from the flame. The taquitos were almost ready, resting side-by-side, on a cookie sheet. They needed to bake in the pre-heated oven at three hundred and fifty degrees for twenty minutes until they were golden brown.

"I skipped lunch," she informed, facing back around to take in the less than impressive view. From his window she could just about make out the prominent landmarks of Granville Island. She could spend hours there checking out the unique shops and one-of-a kind galleries, not to mention the great food. "Hope you made plenty."

"Umm…how does twenty sound?"

"Like I want ten all for myself." She sniggered, then insisted, "Uh, make that an even fifteen for me."

"Only five for me?" Carlos protested, hunkering down to peer into the oven. It always amazed him how quickly the oven did its work. Already the tantalizing taquitos were taking on a nice golden crust. "Maybe I should have made an additional five."

"Nah, nah. I'm just kidding. Ten for you, ten for me." Betty finished her visual stroll of the metropolitan lay of the land. She wondered if she might find an apartment here in town. She lived in one of the townships. Smiling in satisfaction, she made a leisurely change of her immediate location. Seating herself on his comfy couch, she took her time giving his apartment another going over with curious eyes. She'd never been here before and she liked what she saw. Everything about his 'digs' suited her. She ran the tips of her fingernails across her cheek, contemplatively wondering what his bedroom looked like.

The blush spreading over her cheeks was instantaneous. She began fanning herself with her right hand.

She was about to help herself to a looksee of his inner sanctum, when the doorbell buzzed.

"I'll get it," Betty helpfully offered, rising from the couch and sashaying over to the door.

"Huh?" Carlos questioned, sounding distant, disengaged and distracted.

"I said I'll get the door," Betty stressed, her voice much louder this time around.

"Somebody's at the door?" he queried, puzzled. His visitors normally called before coming by.

The buzzer sounded off again.

"Could you get that?" Carlos asked. When he opened the oven door, the arresting aroma hit him full force. His mouth watered instantly.

Betty grimaced, her hand about to go for the knob. Sternly, she told herself to have a peek through the peephole before opening the door. Being too careful was hardly a liability. She looked through the small opening. Thinking she wasn't looking through the hole correctly, she angled her eye up closer for a better visual.

"That's funny," she said, as mystified as she looked and sounded. No one was there. She stepped back from the door, baffled.

No sooner had she, when the buzzer buzzed a second time.

"What the…" She looked through the peephole. Seeing nothing or no one once again, she decided to throw caution to the wind and opened the door. There wasn't a soul to be seen, neither before her, or in the hallway.

Whoever it had been had made tracks fast.

"Who is it, Betty?" Carlos asked, coming around from the kitchen island with his tray loaded with the piping warm taquitos, along with small clear bowls filled with salsa, guacamole, grated cheese and a container of sour cream so they could help themselves, adding whatever preferred garnish. He set the tray down on the broad island and came into the living room. Seeing the open door and Betty standing with her hand on its knob, open-mouthed, he scowled.

She was about to make a crack about the invisible man coming to call, but she refrained and shut the door hard. "Whoever it was rang twice…then ran away?" Betty threw Carlos a sour look. "How mature." She clasped her arms across her chest with a stamp of a foot. She couldn't explain it, it was just a weird feeling, but all of a sudden the feeling of it being just the two of them went awry. Somehow she felt that they were now being watched.

"Forget it." He clapped, then rubbed his hands together, an air of excitement tinging his face with color even warmer and more vibrant than it usually was. His stirring eyes danced, sensing the change in her mood. Wanting to ameliorate Betty's look of displeasure, he importuned, "Let's dig in."

"Yes, let's," Betty rejoined, going to the plate meant for her and began loading it up. All notion of weirdness evaporated. She used all of the complementary, delicious trappings that went along with the _piece-de- resistance_. "They smell heavenly."

They sat at the island a bit farther down from the spread and began chomping and crunching away.

At length, Carlos remarked around a mouthful of his ambrosial creations, "This was a much, much better idea than getting drunk out of our minds, eh?" And after he had promised Kiera that he was going to go easier on hard liquor, too. It felt good not going back on that promise. He wished she hadn't decided to stay behind in the office and had joined them instead. She didn't have to be such a stickler for keeping her nose to the grindstone. Since finding out the truth about her, she was much better company than formerly, but her attitude still needed work.

"Well, I still wouldn't mind having a skinful. What've you got?" Betty arched.

Carlos looked like a go-getter, starting in on his fourth taquito. "Nothing all that hard, but I do have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc I've been saving."

The invited guest, who had turned the invitation down, shrouded in invisibility, stayed her hand while in the act of snagging a taquito destined for an oblivious Carlos. He had made it clear that the next time she came over they would share the bottle. Now he was about to give away her bottle of wine to the woman with the not so secret crush?

Kiera didn't think so. She ambled over to where she knew Carlos kept his alcohol. While her associates continued to converse, she opened the wet bar. Soundlessly and eerily, under the cover of invisibility, she removed the bottle from its place. Oh yes, maybe Kiera was being petty, she knew, taking her quibbling into consideration. But she didn't want the woman whose integrity she was privately investigating, guzzling what she had been promised.

Kiera made herself comfortable on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table, after she placed the wine bottle in another cabinet above the stove. With a Cheshire cat smirk upon her lips, she watched Carlos go to fetch the Sauvignon Blanc. The brawny detective was more than a little surprised not finding the wine where it had been the last time he'd checked.

"That's strange," he categorically assessed aloud.

"What is?" Betty followed up, straining as she craned her neck around the corner of the nook to see his face.

"No fancy wine," he glumly articulated. "I could have sworn I had some."

"No big deal. Anything alcoholic suits me fine."

Grunting, which sounded acutely apologetic, he served Betty some light beer instead.

Every sip she took met with Carlos' profound scowl. After her second bottle, she told him nothing like a little wine gone missing could spoil this evening. The romantic overtones were unmistakable. Kiera's accurate readings left little doubt that Betty had high expectations of spending the night.

Shrugging on the couch, Kiera guided her hands behind her head, braiding her fingers. Absorbed in the developments, she waited to see what would happen.

Had Betty succeeded wedging her foot in the door?

Who Carlos spent the night with was his business, Kiera had no claim on him. How was that even a possibility. Still, as Betty gazed longing into Carlos' soulful eyes, Kiera felt as though she'd been forgotten, shunted aside.

She'd never felt this way before…

Maybe this hadn't been the best idea she'd ever had. As Carlos downed the last of his beer, the overpowering desire to get out of his apartment filled her with regret. Had this even been a joke? When had she intended to make herself visible again and hoot, "Surprise!"

_Childish_, echoed in her mind.

Feeling ashamed, Kiera gravitated toward the door, biding her time until the opportunity presented herself and she could slip out. With her invisible back up against the wall, she wondered what had come over her, prompting her to perpetrate such a dumb stunt as this, spying on her all-around good sport of a partner.

Was she actually _jealous_? Ridiculous…

Since when? Since having learned of Betty's dubious affiliation? Or, was it truly something as unimaginative as jealousy?

Betty, feeling that it was now, or never, quietly inquired, "Would you like some company tonight? Hmm, say, company that can return the favor and fix you breakfast tomorrow morning?"

A shade taken aback, but not floored, Carlos politely turned her racy offer down. "Thank you, Betty…but, uh…no thank you." He steered the flow of words in another direction. "Would you like a doggy bag for your leftovers?" He made it obvious that it was getting to be that time, time to go.

Of her ten taquitos, Betty had managed to eat six of the tasty little suckers.

"I guess that means my staying over isn't a go, eh?" Betty looked glum now.

Gallantly, Carlos replied, "Don't count a rain check out." There was a certain finesse involved in a rejection. Carlos had skills.

"I'll have the rest of my taquitos then, kind sir."

He packed them in plastic, while Betty used his 'powder room.' He handed them off to her at the door. "Night, Betty." He closed in on her cheek, and kissed it. The action smacked of platonic sentimentality. "See you at headquarters _manana_. It was my pleasure whipping up those taquitos."

Turning to face him before she took herself through the door, she tactfully advised, "_She's_ the one you really want to please, isn't it?" Betty reached up for his face, stroking his cheek and gave him a wink. This man was catnip.

Looking innocent, and sounding it even more so, Carlos replied, "S_he_?" As if she knew, Carlos contented himself to think.

Betty saw through his laughable masquerade. He'd have to do better than that to fool her. "A certain doe-eyed brunette you can't take your eyes off of whenever she's around." Knowingly, Betty flicked another wink at him before going through the door. "Night, handsome. See you around."

Bemused, Carlos followed her with his eyes all the way to the elevator. When it came, Betty got in, leaving him gawking still. An uncomfortable feeling crept over him and when he had the door of his apartment closed, the shadowy brunette in question got the jump on him, startling him into the next day.

"Sheesh—Kiera! What the he—"

"I'll have that Merlot you've been promising we'd share, now," Kiera boldly suggested, standing before him in her skintight dark amber suit with a smile that fell far short of being demure stretching her lips. "I decided to take you up on your offer of getting drunk. Although, I don't get drunk, so I'll just take you up on…" She left him to stew in his own bewilderedness, then finished, "Whatever else you might be offering." Leisurely, she made her way to what remained of the taquitos and the fixings. She got into the spirit of taquito preparation, helping herself. Before popping one of the rolled up specialties into her mouth, she spurred, "You did say wine, didn't you? That last time?"

"Kiera…," Carlos mildly said. Putting two and two together quickly, he told her, "So I did…so if you'd care to tell me where _you_ put it, I'll do the honors." Arching an eyebrow, he waited for his sly, highly independent interloper to divulge the wine's whereabouts. Once she had, he took up two clean glasses, fluted ones, and poured.

She sipped and he did too after a moment passed. The wine slid down their throats with a smoothness slicker than silk. Blinking, Carlos inveigled, "Don't get me wrong, love the suit. Love you in the suit."

Kiera's eyes twinkled. "Love me in the suit?" she baited, rolling her bold blue eyes while trying to keep a straight face. Teasing her partner was fast becoming her favorite new pastime. She was partly successful keeping impassivity intact.

It gladdened Carlos that she could feel increasingly more comfortable messing with him, but taken by surprise wasn't his favorite thing. He faked vexation, though, wanting to keep things mellow.

"Next time you sneak in here…"

Kiera had the lip of the glass resting on her lower lip. "I didn't sneak. I walked right in." Her brow furrowed. She liked it, seeing that she had put him on edge. She liked him edgy, although he was doing his best to overcome it.

"If you're about to say in plain sight, forget it. I want fair warning before you use the suit for some off-hours cloaking."

Thoughtfully, in her fantastic outfit that fit her like a second skin, Kiera coyly asked, "Would you like one?"

Pointblank, since he had been meaning to ask if it were even possible, Carlos fired off, "**Yes**!" He imagined himself invisible, the boon her threads lent to crime fighting, getting the drop on bad guys, the way Kiera had at the marine, and never being seen. Carlos was practically salivating, his heart pumping blood furiously to his brain. The CPS suit was a crime-fighter's answer to many prayers, a miracle.

"I'll see what Alec might be able to come up with."

"You're kidding! Like with your firearm?"

"He loves supplemental projects. Now he has another one."

"I'd be all kinds of grateful, Kiera." He slanted his half-full glass at her.

"All in a day's work for _Section Six_," she good-naturedly blandished, pouring herself another full glass of the savory wine. "May I?" she asked as an afterthought, permitting herself to go all pensive.

"You certainly may." He couldn't help but artfully toss in, "Don't you always?"

Kiera downed more wine with a satisfying gurgling sound. This vintage was as addictive as fermented grapes got. "Do you have any more of this stuff?"

Like a wise guy, Carlos cracked, "Aren't you the one who said I needed to cut down?"

By way of reply, Kiera reached for the close to empty bottle to siphon off its last drop. "More, please."

Obligingly, Carlos rose from the kitchen's side island, telling her, "I take it you plan on getting drunk, eh?"

Dutifully, Kiera rejoined, "I plan on spending the night."

That stopped him cold, imagining he'd read just the right touch of innuendo in her statement. Just as accommodatingly, he responded, "I offered, y'know. More than just a night. You want to move in, move in."

Kiera deliberated, still at a crossroads she couldn't seem to choose which way to go. "If I do…" She looked caught between that proverbial rock and a hard place and space to move around in was shrinking. But, she had made up her mind the last time she had slept here. Going back to Kellog's boat was never happening again. She wasn't some bimbo his place was crawling with these days, awash in women who didn't seem to have a problem with being used as they partied hearty. "There can't be…" Molding feelings using words was harder than she thought it would be.

Reading her, which was cozily becoming second nature for him, Carlos generously yielded, "Any strings." Soberingly, and dryly, he reminded her, "I'm not the type of guy who pulls any. You need your space, I'm giving it up for you. I'm fully prepared to convert the den into a man cave. The bedroom's at your sole disposal. We can do this, Kiera." He pulled on her arm. "Roomies. Friends."

"Allies." Nodding, she offered to contribute something toward expenses.

"You're my guest, Kiera. Besides, you're not earning a salary, which I have also been meaning to ask you about. How have you been covering your daily costs?"

"Moonlighting, from time to time."

She had his full attention. "Moonlighting? Doing what?" Suddenly, he didn't want to go down this road, but he couldn't help but wonder. She loved her family, always would, he knew, but she was walking a tightrope. A beautiful woman like Kiera could reap loads of cash if she was willing to sell her soul to the highest bidder. She didn't seem that type, but he didn't know her as well as he wanted to.

The powerful urge to kick himself seized Carlos. Why hadn't he thought to help her out financially before now? That is, if she wanted him to, as self-reliant as she was. But, he would help her out that way, not giving it another thought.

With a sigh of satisfaction, and mischief, she disclosed, "Delivering pizza. Part-time."

He did a double take. "Seriously."

"It's honest work. I get to eat all the pizza I want. And, it's spending money for unforeseen expenses."

"Just don't eat too much pizza," Carlos recommended, giving her a very appreciative eye and deeper respect.

"Oh? Why's that?"

Taunting, he claimed, "Your suit won't fit as…nicely as it does now." That had sounded exactly the way he had meant it to sound. Complimentary with suggestive overtones.

What that kind of admiring scrutiny he was paying her, coupled with longing richly coloring his tone, she evenly replied, "The suit expands to fit. Putting on a few pounds wouldn't make any difference."

He did a poor job concealing his disappointment. "But, you wouldn't pack on the pounds, though. Would you? Purposely?" He knew he shouldn't have said anything, especially the way he was sounding, which was way out of line. "Uh. Okay. Forget I even opened my mouth, letting inanity escape."

But, he had. She wouldn't forget, as she smiled at Carlos and gratefully accepted his charitable offer. "I don't have much, but what little I have I'll collect and bring them here tomorrow. Okay?"

"That suits me fine."

"Oh, and I'll bring more wine too."

"Glad to hear it."

"I knew it would." She popped more taquito into her mouth, watching Carlos drool. "Oh…and since you don't know. I have a very fast metabolism. I can eat anything and never gain."

"What technology allows for that?"

Kiera grinned. "Good genes. They still exist in twenty seventy-seven."

"Hip-hip-hooray for good genes." The best of the best, he deemed, and secretly thought..._And genetic_ e_nhancements and alterations. Is this what we have to look forward to?_ Carlos genuflected, smiling broadly.

Though she couldn't mind read, Kiera had a pretty good idea what was going through his fascinating mind. Just as enigmatically, she smiled back.

TBC…


	17. Chapter 17

She gave herself a few moments, enough time to collect her thoughts, calm her heart, which was beating way too fast. She'd almost lost him. She shook her hands several times, really hard. What if he didn't want to see her?

That look on his face immediately after Garza had released him, his relinquishing of fear…the onrush of relief and redemption. Kiera would never forget that look, that coalescence of passion and pain in that young face.

She sighed. Redirecting her thoughts.

How would she have gotten along without him? He was more than just some mere tool. Tool? Had she just thought that? The very word made her ashamed, had justification oozing from every pore. In all honesty, she had viewed him in those terms in the beginning when hearing his voice in her head would send her mind spinning. Discarding that dehumanizing opinion had happened some time ago.

Inspiration hit her full force. This was a new day, another new beginning. Squaring her shoulders, she lurched forward. Always forward, she foresaw. Without further delay, she entered Alec's lab, the butterflies in her stomach at full strength.

His not wanting to see her, having no desire to involve himself in her priorities, was a real possibility. He had weighed the danger and decided he couldn't do this anymore. She'd be unhappy, but she would make herself understand. Setting her face, she was ready to meet whatever actuality head on. She had saved his life. Wouldn't he take that into consideration? She convinced herself that he would.

At the bottom of the stairs, she observed him. Alec was doing what he was born to do. He was tweaking, having the arc spark, not as much as it once had, before. The time travel device was his 'baby,' he considered. Kiera had used it to save his life. He took a step back with a look of abiding satisfaction, knowing she was watching him, and he reflected on how much her friendship meant to him. The smile was on his face before he turned to face her.

"Are you going to stand there, studying me like a lab rat?" he jounced.

"Are you all right?"

"Do I look sick?" Alec parried. He left off fiddling with the advanced chunk of technology, opting to give Kiera his undivided attention, maybe even offer her a slice of carrot cake. Emily had actually baked. He really wanted them to be friends, not adversaries, he in the middle of a tug of war. He couldn't have that. He liked Kiera more now, than before, ever since the debacle at the farm. Saving his life cemented their alliance. He'd seen a side of her he'd never seen, a dimension of caring he had never imagined existed, lurking beneath the surface of her tough exterior before this latest development. And he was falling deeply in love with Emily. She was the kind of girl he had never thought would give a guy like him a second glance. He was not about to lose her. Kellog could go flush himself into the Greater Vancouver Waterfront. How dare he tell him who he could have in the lab and who was off-limits. If it weren't for him, Kellog would be just another time traveler who had lost his way, and **_not_** his problem. Kellog would be more future Alec's problem, as far as present Alec was concerned.

So the pushy micro-manager had better watch his step, or Alec would leave the hassle of figuring out how to manipulate the future to his advantage to him because he would be bailing. Then, he could spend as much of his free time with Emily as he wanted.

Alec smiled.

"What are you looking so pleased about?" Kiera asked.

The smile never left his face although he grew more thoughtful.

"Well?"

"Oh, nothing…much," Alec eventually acknowledged.

Following the pronounced pursing of her lips, Kiera seated herself as he had done. Lately, he had noticed that she was seriously more animated, more so than when they'd first become acquainted. She was smiling at him, refraining from letting her technology give her a heads-up on his current status. She was learning that people in this age were big on safeguarding their identities since there were hoards of criminals bent on stealing them. In most instances, the "internet" made it child's play. Alec was certainly entitled to his private reactions to his thoughts and feelings. She'd indulge him.

"You look hard at work." She sounded blithe, cheerful, almost. "Your normal m-o."

"Ah, another contemporary reference, Kiera." Alec smirked a little, but not enough to earn him any additional smugness on her part. He liked her new-and-improved persona. "How much television have you been watching since you got here?"

Playfully sounding stiff, she replied, "I haven't become a raving fan of the 'idiot box,' if that's what you mean, Alec." Carlos was though, she thought, smiling at the idea. He had several favorite series, in addition to televised professional sports.

"Oh, no?" Alec jived, then quickly remarked that the 'idiot box,' for some, was welcomed companionship, the relationship bordered on familial, akin to dropping in on family. For many persons, T.V. was all they had, and all they wanted. If you felt like hearing voices, and not the kind that got you locked up in a mental institution, the small screen filled the bill.

Kiera reserved airing judgment, but wondered about such folks. Did they suffer from acute loneliness?

Alec did not hold back, champing at the bit to bring it up. "Wait, wasn't it the other day you had this burning thirst for knowing who the actress was who played Gaila in the twenty-eleven Star Trek reboot you saw on SyFy?"

Kiera looked stumped.

"Uhura's green-skinned roomie in the Academy. The buxom girl Kirk was hooking-up with when Nyota barraged in and began to undress. Which almost gave Kirk a nosebleed. The wild and crazy ladies' man that he is." Alec kept jogging her memory. "As I remember it, you said you thought Rachel Nichols looks a lot like a cousin."

Huffily, Kiera rectified, "What I said was I thought she bore a strong resemblance to my mom's sister, Lisa."

"Ooooh," Alec hectored, fleering, "excuuuuse me." Softly, he rolled his eyes. "Your aunt. Still…all in the family, eh?"

"I have…" Trailing off, Kiera grappled with herself, holding firm and not frowning. Defiantly, she refused to alter the tense. Speaking in the past riled her. All her relatives still existed, in the future, where she hoped to return to one day. "I _have_ a big family, at least it _is_ for twenty-seventy-seven."

"On your side, or…" Alec followed her lead. "Your husband's?"

"Both," Kiera proudly offered, her gaze wandering to the curious chunk of time traveling technology. Her eyes took on a wistful aspect. As much as she had come to terms about being trapped here, resolving to make a go of it, so much of what the future held for her tugged at her heartstrings.

Alec saw the subtle appearance of pain, which had cropped up in her eyes. Wisely, he shuffled the subject. "So…you moved in with Carlos. Does he snore?"

Evenly, Kiera replied, "I'm **_not_** the one to ask, since I don't know."

Alec arched an eyebrow. "You're not sleeping with him?"

"What makes you think I would?"

She forced air from her nostrils forcefully. "Not that it's any of your business, but n-o, no. Why should I? Spliced and splintered timeline, or no, I have no intention of cheating on Greg." She warmed at the memory. There were more good times than trying ones, as she recalled; they'd had their share of both. He was a stickler for candor, as she was. Her hand leaned against her forehead, her arm rested on the serviceable counter she sat at. Greg's lean, angular face loomed larged in her mind's eye. Words felt thick in the sigh she sighed. "I can't betray his trust. I won't."

"What about Carlos?"

She straightened up from the slumping position she had assumed to center her eyes on Alec.

"What about him?" Kiera retorted, pragmatically, not losing patience, but it was fraying a bit at its edges.

"He has a thing for you, y'know." Alec sounded pleased, having voiced his assumption so assertively. Carlos had asked Kiera to move in. Didn't that prove there was serious fire where smoke had first materialized? Then again, maybe not. He could be wrong about them. Alex began vacillating. The pleasure he experienced began evaporating.

"You're kidding, right?" So much for thinking her deadpanning was working. Alec saw right through it. "Tell me you're kidding," Kiera put across, mugging. She was overdoing it.

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?" Alec couldn't help his wiseacre grin, deducing that he had struck a nerve. His swagger went to full strength. Its potency saturated his boyish features. "Admit it, you two have gotten all kinds of chummy. It isn't all one-sided."

_So what if we have_, she wanted to shout. They worked together, shared much the same sensibilities. What they lacked having in common was made up by understanding where the other was coming from. So, how wrong was it to think of Carlos as a close friend, maybe something even closer than that? Time, Kiera sagely considered, would tell.

She recalled Carlos asking her if he should be jealous since she and Gardiner had teamed up.

Instead of taking Alec down a peg, Kiera deflected, precluding with a sigh and noted, "The same can be said for you and…Emily."

Alec's eyebrows scaled his forehead when they lifted. "Uh…"

As his voice trailed off, Kiera replied, "Feel free to tell me what I just told you. It's none of my business."

"I want you and Emily to be friends," Alec requested, looking as if he had donned a sackcloth and his face was smudged by ashes. Sounding contrite, he capitulated, "You're right. I'm sorry. What you and Carlos are…it is what it is. It isn't any of my business."

"If Carlos and I cease being 'just friends,' you'll be the first to know," Kiera assured.

"And you and Emily? Friends?"

Resignation framed her words. "I'm working on it," she patiently awarded, refocusing on the exotically-connected time machine. "These things take time."

Cheerily, Alec piped up, "Like a slice of the carrot cake she made—from scratch. Please, try some. It's fantastic!"

About to accept a piece, Kiera needed to answer her mobile phone. Carlos was calling. After she broke off talking with him, she said, "Next time. My partner needs me."

"Yeah, I bet," Alec taunted, grinning. He didn't dilute the camaraderie. "Em made plenty. It'll keep." He shooed Kiera off. "Go, go."

She began scooting. "We'll be in touch."

"True that." He heard her leave through the nondescript access, then turned his full attention back to manipulating the miraculous device, hoping to discover its full potential and exploit it before too long.

TBC…


	18. Chapter 18

The lights flickered upon the waters surrounding Vancouver, catching Carlos' eye easily. He sighed against the air turning cooler and relinquished thoughts of falling asleep as soon as he lay his head upon his pillow tonight. Too many questions itched in his mind. The one most troubling was, if he hadn't burst upon that rain-soaked, muddy scene, having found Kiera pointing her gun pointblank at Julian, would she have shot him in cold blood?

A chill surged through Carlos as he considered. Flinching, the question she had asked him roared back into memory…

If he had been a time traveler, in the time of Hitler's youth, would he have killed him, knowing the ilk of rabid vermin he'd become, the unspeakable, unforgiveable atrocities he would commit?

Could Hitler have changed, if he had been given the chance? Had his circumstances shaped him, or had he been born incontrovertibly evil, no turning around, not ever?

Carlos gagged, having put those steely, rhetorical questions to himself.

He lifted the bottle ensconced in the brown paper bag, clinging to one of his answers before he spoke it aloud. Leisurely, he settled the lip of the bottle on his lower lip and tilted his head back to allow the alcohol's bite to claw its way down his throat. With the suggestion of sullen swagger, Carlos reaffirmed his affirmation. "Yes! _Yes I would_—in a heartbeat!"

_He was evil incarnate_, Carlos irrevocably condemned.

Woozy from a little too much to drink, the day's fever pitch and sheer exhaustion, Kiera inched around to take him in. He looked as edgy as she felt. "Yes you would what in a heartbeat?" She helped herself to another swig once she'd eased the bottle from his hand, which he let her, not raising any protest.

"Kill Hitler," Carlos spat out savagely, venom dripping from his words. Those harbor lights were doing wicked things to his bleary eyes' vision. Though he closed them, he opened them again immediately at the sound of Kiera's soft, soothing voice. Was this woman getting a clue just how much she had started to mean to him? What if she had blown Julian away? Would he still feel the same about her, now? He was glad, counting himself fortunate this night, at this point in time, since he didn't have to deal with the agony of that reality.

Not this night…

Finally, because she had kept silent for what felt like an eternity, Kiera replied, "Why?"

Implausibly, Carlos reiterated, "He was the sickest freak who ever lived—that's why. You sit there, asking me that." His eyes targeted the paper bag, the paper badly crumpled now, almost torn as was Carlos' voice. "You, who live and breathe to prevent the same thing from happening in your time."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he slapped his hand over it. Why had he said that? Was the booze having the opposite effect, turning him into a raving, inconsiderate lout, instead of mellowing him out, tempering his punchy temperament?

"Kiera—I'm—"

"No, no. Your point is well taken, heartily embraced. As I said before, every monster starts off as somebody's baby." Her saying so this time sounded less predatory.

Nevertheless, Carlos cringed, hearing her say that again, as he'd done the first time she'd let it roll off her tongue so unemotionally, like a machine. It was the identical machine-like precision and coldness he'd witnessed seeing her stalk and corner Julian, moments away from pulling the trigger if he hadn't talked her down off the ledge.

"Now you understand what drove me to hunt Julian down, capture him and place him in the hands of Martinez and Lisicky, and mine."

Did he, Carlos pondered. _Martinez and Lisicky, those two psychos are some real classic pieces of work_, he thought. The idea did not sit well, Kiera resorting to those loose cannons anytime in the future if the investigation seemed to warrant sheer brutality for getting the job done. She was _his_ partner, more than man enough and effective enough, wholly vested in being what she needed him to be. Hadn't he proved that already any number of times since teaming up?

Screw Gardiner, though the secret agent man was no more. Screw Dillion's new tag team, the sadists.

He was all she needed to help her further her quest.

Sitting here with Kiera now on this bench, sharing a bottle, trying to comfort her as best he could, hearing the humanity flow back into her lovely voice, this was the Kiera he had begun to know and…prize. That other, driven, robotic Kiera scared him. She looked like her, had the technology, but not the heart; she wasn't the partner for him. He vowed to keep that alarming version of Kiera at bay.

"W-what have I done?" she bemoaned.

He heard her accuse herself again, the way she had maligned herself a minute ago for possibly turning Julian into that monster she now felt responsible for creating.

"Don't go there again, Kiera. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. You're doing all that you can, all that's humanly possible. You can't get inside Julian's head. You couldn't then, you can't now."

She trained sharp eyes on Carlos. "Yes, oh, yes I can. The CMR. I refrained from using it to sift his brain. It could have meant its destruction. If we learn that he's teamed up with either Sonya or Travis, I won't hesitate to pick his mind apart."

"Like how you used _we_ just now." He crimped his smile. Hesitantly, his tone tight, Carlos propounded, "Why didn't you use that ability instead of torturing him?"

Sounding ashamed instead of vainglorious, Kiera fairly whimpered, "I…I don't… I might have done irreversible damage to his brain. Didn't you hear what I just said? My weapon, the C-M-R...the result would've been the same. I would have destroyed Julian." She threw her head back, feeling her blood drain from her face. "I m-made a mistake, deciding he wasn't worth a chance. If I had killed him, I'd have that to live with, always wondering if I'd made the right decision. You helped me realize that." Effortlessly, she folded in on herself, thoroughly spent. Pretense sucked. Carlos was right, she mentally fondled, who was she to be playing at being 'mistress of the universe?'

She could use more proof. She would look for ways to get it, because…

What if Julian could change just as Alec was bent on doing?

She had nearly let blind rage transform her into another Garza. There was nothing good in that.

Kiera felt the weight of Carlos' stare upon her. She sat up in her seat and crossed her legs, bouncing the crossed leg, the motion distracting her for a couple of seconds, seconds helpful in allowing her to collect her thoughts.

"I can't afford making them, but…I am capable of them."

Having heard her say that, the way she had expressed it, and her woebegone demeanor, Carlos felt his heart swell with admiration. As quickly as he felt that, something more profound and superlative for this gutsy, fallible, heartrending woman took control. This was the woman who could alter the beats of his heart with a sigh, a telling glance, the sauciness of her lips, when she could be so deliciously, and infuriatingly coy.

"You're from the future, but still human through-and-through, like the rest of us."

The reflections of the harbor lights danced in his eyes.

Intense desires swept over him. They had him dreaming of possessing, saying hello again, to those fine lips as he had that day she had said goodbye before she'd taken off for parts unknown to him.

"Are you cold?" Carlos whispered, already extending a silent invitation that her shelter was here, waiting for her in the compliancy of his empty arms.

"With as much as I've had to drink?"

"I've had just about as much as you've had."

"You cold?" Kiera winked at him. "Touche."

"A little…"

They met each other halfway; she pulled him into herself. He snuggled against her, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

"Better?" Kiera asked.

"Lots," Carlos deferred, praising the amazing properties of body heat shared. "So, Kiera, I'm just asking…" His chin rested gently on the crown of her head. "Next time things get crazy like today. Don't keep me in the dark. Please…let me in. Don't shut me out when you've already made up your mind that I won't be 'down' with what you think needs doing. When we actually do act like one, we make a righteous team. Like I said…just sayin'."

She liked how it felt, sighing against him as she was consciously doing right this very moment, hearing his heartbeat in her ear. "And I'm listening, Carlos. Plan on doing more of it. You stopped me from denying someone I really don't know in this time period the right to choose what he will become. I can't let myself forget that."

"Kiera…" Carlos breathed into her scalp, "You won't. I have faith in you."

She closed her eyes at the same time her partner shut his. Next time, and there would be one, he had no doubt, if she went rogue, so would he.

The harbor lights grew brighter as their ephemeral reflections twinkled on the water.

TBC…


	19. Chapter 19

Carelessly, Kiera checked, wanting to know what time it was. How long had she been in here? If felt like ages and her feeling was on the money. _Wow…that long_, she thought, seeing that it was nearly midnight, the dawn of a new day. A new day that was just as fraught with danger as the one that was about to end. With her eyes, she scanned the quiet, practically empty coffeehouse, wherein she felt agitated. Why wasn't anyone hassling her, giving a reminder that the place was about to close?

Oh, that's why. Withdrawn, her fatigued eyes fell on the neon sign. When not reading the glowing lettering backwards, as she was doing, it blazed, giving notice that the cafe stayed open twenty-four hours, seven days a week. She could freeload here all night if she wanted to. Could she?

"Would you like a re-filler-up?"

"Thanks," Kiera replied, a weariness fraying her voice. The way the waitress was eyeing her, Kiera had a good suspicion that she had her pegged as a guarded woman with no place to go. No one could care less that she was out on her own at this hour, soaking up cups of coffee like a sponge. Kiera could barely keep her eyes open, but she had to. At least until she found someplace relatively safe where she could shut them.

"How 'bout a nice slice of pie? Dutch apple?"

Kiera remained silent, lost in thought, and not about whether or not to have pie. She was in no mood for anything sugary.

"I can top it off with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream," the waitress enticed, licking her own lips. The pie wasn't homemade, but it was close enough. An average slice was the width of two slivers.

Kiera declined with a shake of her head. "No, thanks. The coffee's fine."

She only had a suspicion, nothing concrete to go on. Maybe this lethargy was connected to Alec's success with turning on Travis' CMR and there was linkage with herself and him. How freaky was that? And, how fraught with danger. The risk was too great of his finding her.

Having Travis in her head had been beyond horrendous. It was as though he were violating her. _"Protector—I'm coming for you_…"

Kiera cringed, reliving the specter of that substantial reality.

The diminutive flickery flame on the candlewick cast quivering shadows on the small, thin shade that sheathed it. Kiera sat at a booth, made for two. She was alone, feeling consummately solitary, her emotions all over the place.

The run-in with the Freelancers had badly shaken her. Who were they, really? What was their agenda? Were they timeline police, whose mission it was to protect it, keep it anomaly free? Was she considered an aberration in the grander scheme of things?

She was bone tired, looked it too, and now her head was throbbing so much. Sleepily, she nodded at the waitress, appreciating her attentiveness. _Why not_, Kiera thought, _stay right here_? She had no place else to go; she was certain of that. Her straight arrow partner, whose physique had become even better since she'd burst into his life, had looked at her sideways at the stationhouse. His glower left little doubt how he felt about her. He didn't need her staying at his home; preferably, he preferred her not being underfoot. In so many unsaid words, she had seen in his taut eyes that he was done with her. That visual warning he'd shot her left little doubt, as though he'd burned her with his blistering eyes.

She needn't show her face at his door since, ultimately, they had come to a parting of the ways. Did he consider them still partners? Whether he still did, or didn't Carlos had made up his mind. Their strained interaction was no way to operate efficiently. Could they go on much longer like this?

Doubtful. He was doing the only sensible thing; he was breaking off whatever understanding they had seemed to have. They'd been great together, at first. Now…it was the opposite. They were just too different to have a copacetic working relationship. And, if they didn't have that, just what did they have?

She no longer knew. Carlos and his scowling, his tacit and vocal way of conveying that her way of conducting investigations was way out of control, were making it clear. Both of them had stayed too long at the fair.

She must go her own way; he had already gone his, so it appeared.

Following a protracted yawn, Kiera morosely reflected.

Shaky ground, was shaky ground; she didn't fool herself. How could she do that? She was a realist from the future. Their relationship had solidly hit a wall. Its condition, critical. Stubbornly, she had promised herself that she was never seeking shelter under Kellog's roof. His boat of unnatural delights was off-limits. What business did she have there? She should have never set foot on his vessel in the first place, only to rue that decision every time she thought about what she'd done.

How many times did she need to remind herself?

Move on…it didn't mean anything, Kiera bore down on herself, feeling her eyes water. _He took advantage of your vulnerability that weird night; he's good at that. He does it to anyone he thinks he can get away with doing it with. He's doing it to Alec and Alec thinks he's helping him even up the playing field in the future_...

Scoffing, Kiera gave a perverse, hollow laugh.

Kellog was using Alec, worse than how he'd used her. Why did she let him continue with the mind games and chicanery, the manipulation he was so good at?

She had supplied the answer; he was _good_ at it. Far too good; better than she was, by far.

The way Kiera felt now…so far from home, with not a friend in this world, left her numb, effectively immobilized. It was as though this half-lit,

She thought about her husband…and then for a reason inexplicable to herself, of Carlos, again. This time, hot tears in her red-tinged eyes eagerly got fatter as painful realization hit. He was no longer an option, she sorrowfully thought, absent-mindedly stroking fingers through her hair. All that had transpired since Gardiner's death, their increasing difficulty not seeing eye-to-eye on how to proceed, the disagreements and heated arguments the dissension, had produced this rift. Their estrangement weighed heavily on her mind. She needed Carlos, and not just for his innate ability to get to the heart of thorny police matters.

He was a good cop, she thought for as many times, but an even better friend. As things stood now, she wasn't sure he saw her that way. There was more than a good chance that he no longer considered her his. She was unsure just how he saw her. No, she knew as he had grown increasingly frosty. When he looked at her, it was as though he saw red and regretful having become involved.

Alec, she still had Alec. Would he mind if she turned up on his doorstep? He would if Emily were with him. More times than not, she was with the boy phenom.

So, where could she go? Not the least bit sorry, she had allowed the short-term lease on her first place to expire. In the interim, she'd used the restroom at police headquarters to bed down. She had done that at least twice. Another time she went to the movies, had stayed and seen some meaningless movies until the theater had closed down. Then, Kellog, letting his ulterior motives be his guide, had extended the invitation for wanting her to stay aboard his floating den of inequity.

Happening to glance down at her now refilled cup of piping hot coffee, Kiera looked up, eyeballing the red-haired, spunky waitress. How many cups had she had? The chipper livewire was all smiles and aiming to please flashed in her big, blue eyes. She motioned for her server to move in closer and related, "I know I've been here for a while…"

"Hey, what's the rush? We're open all night."

Nodding, Kiera answered, "I know…" As her voice trailed, her mind raced. Maybe Alec wouldn't mind if she went to him.

The waitress was about to head back to the counter, there were a few things she had to organize. Kiera, as though what she had in mind to ask the waitress was brewing, stopped her. She allowed her look of inquiry to sink in for her observant server. Then, before the waitress took off and she lost her nerve, Kiera quietly, pliantly requested, "Do you think it would be okay if I—"

Kiera's mobile phone rang, cutting her off. Seeing who it was, her mind went blank. She made no move to respond to her phone, seeing who it was calling. Unbelievable. She was floored, bedeviled by perplexing questions. What now? He couldn't stop himself? He wasn't through chewing her out? He couldn't hold back from calling her every narrow-minded thing he could think of? She didn't have to answer. Like a mule, with arms across her chest and a sour expression scalding her face, Kiera didn't budge.

"Aren't you going to take that?" the surprised waitress inquired.

"I'm thinking it over," Kiera countered, sounding spiteful. The fingers of her right hand crept to the cellular device. They closed over the persistent noisemaker and pulled it into her hand. She counted to three, then answered.

"Yes, Carlos."

At the other end, he barked, "Where the hell are you?"

"Here?"

"Where's here?"

"At this coffeehouse, five blocks from the station." She heard his stiff breath of impatience in her ear.

"Are you all right?"

"Perfectly. Full of coffee though. I've had about three, no going on four cups."

"Were you planning on spending the night?"

Snidely, Kiera retorted, "I was…" No lie.

"It's past midnight."

"Yeah. I've been telling time since I was four years old."

Carlos breathed again, trying hard not to lose his already strained patience. "You'd better be joking about staying there instead of..." He coughed a little for stirring effect. "Aren't you coming _home_?"

Kiera didn't know what to say. She just listened to the intensity, the earnestness of his angry-sounding, expressive voice, reading her the riot act. It was beautiful. He hadn't known where she was, but she wasn't with him. She gulped some air, preventing her from sobbing full-on.

"Well? I was about to send out a search party. Of one—me."

"I'll be right there." She decided she needed to tack on, "I should have called."

"Yes, you should have. I'll have your tea waiting. Get a move on." Carlos ended the call with a finality all his.

Mashing her upper lip down on her lower one, Kiera rose from the round wooden table, making sure she stuffed her phone into the side pocket of her jacket.

The waitress gauged from her actions that she wouldn't be finishing the coffee she'd just poured her, but she wanted to make sure. "You won't finish that?" She canted her head at Kiera's cup.

Paying for all that she had consumed at the register, Kiera smiled pleasantly at her and replied, "No I've got my favorite tea waiting."

"Was that your husband?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Boyfriend?"

"Not exactly." But most assuredly her friend, a very concerned one. One she knew she could count on, regardless of how bad things got. Kiera smiled, and near the door, preparing to leave she simply extended, "See ya."

"Uh huh," the waitress returned. "See ya around."

Heading into the new day that looked as dark as night, Kiera smiled, grateful for another chance to prove she hadn't entirely forgotten how levelheaded she could be, depending on the circumstances.

When she arrived at his apartment, he didn't give her the chance to say anything. Drawing her inside, all he said was, "You weren't going to come here, were you?" After she nodded, and he led her to where her tea waited for her, he continued, "Kiera, if you don't know this by now, you never will."

"Know what?" she asked, sipping her tea, peeking at him with big round eyes over the rim of her cup as she sat at the roomy counter.

Rolling his energetic eyes at Kiera, Carlos reiterated for so many times, he'd lost count, "We are partners, you got that? I've got your back…" He knew how that sounded and went on with a knowing smile on his lips. "And you sure as hell better have mine. I'm not going to say it again."

"Oh, really?" Kiera bantered, seeing as how his tone had turned the tide.

"Don't get cute," he mockingly warned.

"You mean like…" Kiera shamelessly winked at him. "Garza?"

Aghast, Carlos croaked, "Y-you heard?"

"Every juicy word," Kiera goaded and held up her index finger, tapping the side of her left ear. "Superior hearing." She felt she needed to work in, "I missed the end of your enlightening conversation because I had to see Alec."

Low and behold—Carlos had gone almost beet red. It was a good thing she was incapable of reading minds, after what he'd thought once Garza had accused him of what she had. Struggling, he stammered in that abashed way he had, "S-she's psycho. Just trying to get a rise out of me." Hot under the color, he began sweating. "We're professionals."

"Absolutely," Kiera, concurred, but still looked wonderfully content to keep him sweating, looking as adorable as he did and deliciously uncomfortable. _Garza and her inane accusation_, Kiera mused, picturing Carlos ticklishly in the throes of telling her she was a beaut with his arms around her.

"Not news, but what I want to know is." Primly, Kiera coughed, then winked at him salaciously. "Is she_ really_ banging Travis?" Without another scathing word, she downed her lukewarm tea, fluidly got up from the stool and sauntered into the room once his, now hers. "Night, _Partner_." She peppered him with additional winks, scattergun style, meant to up his uncomfortableness.

Speechless, Carlos looked after her as she went her way, resolutely telling himself to keep his mouth tightly shut. He didn't trust himself. Was she leading him on, or was he imagining the incredible?

Shaking off the dilemma, he sighed after he'd taken a deep breath. She was here, safe and sound. That was all that mattered, guaranteeing that he would rest easier, tonight.

Maybe...


	20. Chapter 20

"Kiera! Kiera!" Looking up, Carlos paused his reading in the book he'd decided he needed to tackle a month ago, _War and Peace_. He listened, waiting for her reply; none came. "Hey! Are you all right in there?"

Water kept splashing, no answer from the one benefitting from its clean, refreshing outpour. What was she doing in there all this time, besides washing the dust and dirt of the day off?

Carlos' forehead wrinkled.

The shower had been running for a half hour, at least. He wasn't holding a stopwatch, and he knew that she was big on taking showers, loved them. But, come on; enough was enough.

How did he know she loved showers? She had told him, of course, a whole two days after she'd moved in. Even so, though showers were her thing, she had never taken one this long. Concerned, Carlos stuck his bookmark in place, laid aside the book and rose from the couch. Standing at the bathroom door, he then pressed his ear to it. Continuing to hear the steady stream of flowing water, he lightly rapped on the door. "Kiera…"

He was sure that she heard him. Again, he called her name and kept knocking.

"Quit playing games." _Still thinking she got the best of me a while ago, regurgitating Garza_, he evaluated, his knuckles beating a more riveting tattoo on the framed wood. Eventually, the feeling took hold, as the sound of the water kept on, that something was wrong. He tried the doorknob, apprehension fraying his composure, sending his self-possession in a tailspin. "Answer me—Kiera!"

Girding himself, he leaned in, bearing his full weight against the door. The doorknob gave under his hand's brutal assault as Carlos rammed his shoulder into the barrier. When it gave, he tumbled inside the bathroom.

He would apologize for this, later, if she expected he make one. His worried eyes darted to the glass wall-style opaque door of the shower stall.

No sounds of surprise, nor alarm greeted him. Just the maddening, steady stream of water relentlessly running…raining down upon her crumpled body. She was in a heap, out cold, in the far corner of the sandal ceramic-tiled stall.

"Kiera!" Carlos shouted, beside himself. A quick thinker, he shut the water off and quickly grasped one of the thick and downy, big, beige towels hanging on the nearby rack. Noble Rover Scout mentality, he'd been one of the very best pathfinders in his troop, took over. Respectfully, he draped a naked as a jaybird Kiera in the towel. He tucked the fragrant, absorbent bolt around her. Gently, pulling her up into his arms, she unconscious still, he softly told her, "It's going to be all right."

He whispered that again against the backdrop of his bathroom's hazy cosmetic lights, clouded by the air's pervasive humidity. He weaved his sturdy fingers through her dripping wet hair as he rested her head against his shoulder. He touched her cheek, noting the clammy feel of her skin. Her breathing was extremely shallow, he also noticed, while lying her down.

Immediately, he rushed away to get smelling salts he kept in his medicine cabinet. Holding the bottle beneath her nose did the trick. After a spate of coughing and wheezing, shaking her head from side-to-side, Kiera regained consciousness. Realizing she was only wearing a towel didn't faze her. Glad to be wearing something, Kiera acknowledged Carlos' rapt concern.

"How long was I out?" Not looking away from him, she reached over for the robe sitting on the edge of the wide platform bed.

"I'd have to say a while." His eyes never left hers.

Kiera slipped on the robe, tied it around herself, looking shaky to a degree and began towel drying her hair. She wasn't exactly dizzy, but she wasn't all that steady either.

"Has this ever happened before?" Carlos demanded.

Kiera shrank at his tone, as though his gruffness was deflating. Seeing the effect it had on her, he softened.

"What I mean is. Recently?"

She shook her head. "No. Not even in the future. I'm not one to faint." Yet, she had. Why?

"Could it have something to do with…" He came to sit beside her on the bed, unease mixed with preoccupation about her welfare leaping from his hard-set face. "Alec's experiment? Trying to activate you-know-who's C-M-R." He wished she could get it through her head that she was a woman, first. A science project—never, if he had any say in the matter. Which, of course, he did not.

It was plausible, she had to concede, but Kiera couldn't answer with any finality. So, with a shrug, she replied, "Don't know."

Crossing his eyes, Carlos pressed, "Okay. Then, when was the last time you ate anything? I mean really had a decent meal?"

Like she remembered. Had she even had breakfast, yesterday? Again, with a shrug, she danced around his question, forcing him to realize that she couldn't give him a true answer.

She had strung together scanty snacks over the past few days. An energy bar here, a salted pretzel there, a handful of red globe grapes someone had brought into headquarters, nothing that truly qualified as a square meal.

Her unmitigated silence riled him. "You're probably suffering from hypoglycemia."

"Am not," Kiera protested, waving such foolishness off.

"Like hell." He stood, glaring down at her. "Know what you need?"

She looked him up and down, then, sounding risqué, said, "Mouth-to-mouth resuscita—"

"Maybe later..."

Smirking he rolled his eyes fiercely. "If you're good. Yeah. Maybe." He ordered her to get under the covers. Under no circumstances was she to move from where she was. "You need food, woman. I'm going to make you some." Before leaving her alone, he groused, "Who told you, you could take on all the bad guys on an empty stomach? That just doesn't fly."

"But, I'm not hung—"

"Yes you are. You just think you're not."

Resistance was futile, and plainly seen in those inflexible, hard-boiled eyes of his.

"I'm not!" She sounded like a spoiled little girl, refusing to give an inch, all sound and fury...signifying nothing.

"What's so great about being stubborn?"

Kiera batted challenging eyes at him. "Really. Me?"

"If you're determined to chase down these villainous losers, by and large alone, at least do it with solid nourishment under your belt."

Kiera was tempted to toss back, '_Yes, Mommy._' Instead, she gave him her best impression of a hostage, bewitched by her alluring captor. Docility gilded the lilt in her voice.

"What are you fixing me?"

Seeing the side of her, which underscored just how majestic she could be when she wanted to, he ran it down for her. "A nice juicy steak—" He put up his hands. "I know, I know. You're not a big fan of meat."

"When did I ever say that?"

"In so many words. What? You think I'm slow taking a hint?"

Kiera stared him down. "You're just full of accusations right now."

Grinning, Carlos essayed, "Nevertheless. You're getting a steak, medium well."

"Thanks," she offered with a playful smile that brought out the warmth in her eyes. "And?"

Nodding, Carlos added, "Fries to go along with it. Uh…what vegetables. Let me preface that. What green vegetables would you like?"

"I never knew you were running a restaurant on the side here," Kiera jibed.

"Cut the comedy." He raised his eyebrows. "I'll fix peas."

"Snow peas?" Kiera asked sweetly, looking mawkish.

"You want those?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Coming right up. My veggie crispers are stocked. Now, rest. Here." He went back to the bed, holding the remote. "Find a late, late movie to keep you up. Can't have you falling asleep before you've got some nutrition in your bloodstream."

A moment before he left her/his room, Kiera said, "Thank you, Carlos. Why are you so nice to me? I put you through the worst hell. Still not giving you the honesty you deserve. And I've kicked you out of your own room."

"I'll make sure…" He came back to the bed, again. Smiling down on her, he bent from the waist and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "You'll get my bill."

She took his hand, brought it to her lips, kissing the back's smooth surface. Sounding grateful, and braiding her fingers with his, she praised, "You're the best."

Clutching her hand, he nimbly replied, "Just remember that the next time Garza brings up that subject."

Holding their breaths, they locked eyes, holding the gaze as he pranced off to make her that late dinner, or early breakfast, depending on how one looked at it.

She raved about the steak; filet mignon was her favorite cut. It sliced like butter, was succulent and she practically wolfed it down along with the fries and the snow peas he had sautéed in herb butter. He was an incredible cook.

So much for her not being hungry, Carlos couldn't help deadpanning, careful not to rub it in too much. She thanked him again for feeding her so well, and expressed her profound gratitude for the classy way he had handled her nudity.

"I'm not the type to have a lady at a disadvantage." He managed to casually slip in, "I'll check back with you about checking you out when you're in the position of saying you're okay with it."

That roundabout invitation had rendered her speechless, and wondering how much longer she'd be able to keep up the pretense. Prompted by her feelings complicating things, she had begun thinking of him as something more than just her friendly 'port in a storm.' Unquestionably, he was becoming much more.

And she no longer felt feeling that way was inappropriate.

Kiera slept like a baby once she ate every bite of his mouth-watering repast. There was little of anything left over. Carlos slept soundly too, resting assured that she wasn't solitarily somewhere in the wilds of greater Vancouver, suffering from low blood sugar…out cold in a godforsaken trash-lined alley, getting rolled by vagrants or snatched by the body snatchers.

Yeah, he cared.

Carlos rolled over onto his other side on the army surplus folding cot and closed his eyes. Always would.


End file.
